


Vellichor

by anansi-galpals (Anansi_galpals)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Humor, Cuban Lance (Voltron), F/M, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, It's me so there will probably most definitely be gratuitous swearing, Japanese Keith (Voltron), Keith is petty, Keith rides a motorbike, Keith this is basically all your fault, Lance is a sap, M/M, Slow Burn, That cliche where they only talk through notes, Thats right helmet hair, This is purely self motivated I'm sorry if it's bad, Writer AU, bookshop au, writer lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-21 17:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8254039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anansi_galpals/pseuds/anansi-galpals
Summary: Velichor vell·i·chor [vell’ēkär] n. the strange wistfulness of used bookstores, which are somehow infused with the passage of time
Keith is a wanderer by nature and when he finds himself in someone's dusty old bookstore it's not much of a surprise. He picks up a book to read and to his horror, it's some amateur's first novel. It's terrible, it's fascinating, it's utterly brilliant, with characters so heartbreakingly human they almost seem real. But the worst thing? It's unfinished. Being totally above casual pettiness, Keith decides to write himself into the story and leaves it for the owner to find. Said owner is not best pleased but he has a duty to finish his story - and apparently, now Keith does too. Keith is soon horrified to learn that the main character of the book is most definitely a self-insert, and even worse - Keith is hopelessly in love with him.
OR
That one in which Lance is a wannabe Scifi writer and Keith is (willingly) dragged into his mess.





	1. Serendipity

**Author's Note:**

> Unknown chapter titles are usually borrowed from [ the dictionary of obscure sorrows](http://www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com), a beautiful website, go check it out if you want!

Velichor vell·i·chor [vell’ēkär]

n. the strange wistfulness of used bookstores, which are somehow infused with the passage of time—filled with thousands of old books you’ll never have time to read, each of which is itself locked in its own era, bound and dated and papered over like an old room the author abandoned years ago, a hidden annex littered with thoughts left just as they were on the day they were captured.

 

....

  
**  
** Chapter 1: 

_Serendipity- ser·en·dip·i·ty [ˌserənˈdipitē]_

_noun the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way:_

 

Keith was an idealist. He liked to believe in the concept of fate, (even if it was just a persistent thought lingering in the back of his mind after a few too many drinks) even when every other fibre of his being told him that the logical conclusion to life was far less romantic and unequivocally dull. But the heart does not always do what it is told; something Keith knew frustratingly well, and his was leading by example that notorious Saturday afternoon, as it drew him in a state of near-mesmerisation towards the bookshop across the road.  
  
It was too hot for coffee really, but Keith was distracted enough that any form of bodily inconvenience was tiny compared to his ravenous need for a decent coffee and a good book. This was his first day away from campus and while he was supposed to be getting essentials such as food and toilet paper, he preferred to get his priorities straight by scouting the local shops, and had predictably found himself off-track and over the considerably worn threshold of 'Paladin Books'.  
  
The shop was so quiet you could hear a pin hit the floor and it would probably deafen you, and so _very_ dusty. But that perpetually musty smell was one of the reasons Keith loved old bookshops; it was a prerequisite in his opinion. If you didn't feel like you needed a shower and a seriously strong decongestant when you left, what would be the point?  
  
Keith squinted as his eyes attempted to adjust to the low lighting of the shop. It appeared as if there were no people around, even though the door was propped open by a sign, and there was no one to be seen behind the antique wood counter. The sign had promised hot drinks and Keith had the sixth sense of a college student caffeine addict. He was about to venture past the heavy, towering bookcases to see if a drinks machine even existed when Rick Astley's dulcet tones blasted from his pocket and he scrambled for the source of the noise.  
  
"Shit- SHI- PIDGE!"  
  
For some reason, making a noise in a place this quiet seemed like taboo, so he answered the phone, but reluctantly.  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"I hate you. Also don't shout."  
  
"What. Why? You started it, anyway, Keeeeeith..."  
  
Keith internally braced himself. He knew what was coming but he asked all the same.  
  
"...Pidge?  
  
"Have you got one yet?"  
  
"Have I got a what yet?"  
  
"Don't be pedantic, have you got a boyfriend yet? A date? A flirtatious interaction? Anything whatsoever to prove that you're not as lonely as we know you are."  
  
"I'm not lonely."  
  
"Kudos to you kiddo. So...?"  
  
"No I haven't fallen in love with anyone in the thirty seconds since you last asked."  
  
"Case in point! And why not?"  
  
Keith sighed, he would refuse it until his last breath but he was lonelier than he would have hoped at this stage of his life. College was his first breath of hope in a long time, the prospect of this second chance was intoxicating, here he could have a new start to life, surrounded by a whole new set of people. But setting up his new life in California was much harder than he had expected, he hadn't had time to socialize. At least he had Pidge, who was probably worth the considerable effort. Probably.  
  
"I've been busy. And I don't need one, I'm fine by myself."  
  
"Okay, hermit. I get it, you're a single independent woman who don't need no man. I hope you've got your nose out of those goddamn books at least. Maybe you could at least go outside once in a- "  
  
"Bye Pidge."  
  
"Oh wow, rude! I'll see you tomorrow then?"  
  
"Yup. Pizza and TV?"  
  
"Is there any other life my friend?  
  
Keith chuckled quietly before hanging up, suddenly very aware he was the only person in the shop. He coughed self consciously and tried to remember what exactly he had come in here for.  
  
A book. That's it, a book will do. Now which one? Hmm...  
  
The place was as far from the Dewey Decimal System as could possibly exist, in fact, Keith couldn't even work out if there was even an order to what seemed like thousands of books spewing from the temperamental looking shelves. There was what looked suspiciously like a First Edition copy of 'Aesop's Fables' sitting next to a worn 'Origin of the Species' with half the label torn off, and 'Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix' was stuffed on top of Mary Shelley's 'Frankenstein'. Keith was horrified. How the hell was he going to find anything in this damn store? There wasn't even a staff-  
  
A crash resounded through the silence. So he wasn't alone, how awkward. From the sheer volume of noise that echoed around the large room, it sounded as if somebody had just dropped an entire shelf on the floor, and from the muffled curses that were coming from somewhere in the bookshop, it was quite possible they had.  
  
Keith was getting desperate now, he couldn't spend too long in here otherwise he wasn't certain he'd ever leave. Bookstores always seemed to contain an element of timelessness. He wasn't sure whether or not that was because of the sheer mass of hundreds of stories that they hold; pressed together in tight spaces, cover to cover, spine to spine, but never tangling; almost like a metaphor. Books. Seemingly obsolete in this time of technology and gadgetry, but somehow still managing to capture the unwary reader at the end of a hard day in the same way they have done forever. Keith couldn't get enough of them.  
  
Fuck this. Who cares what book it is, it'll be better than nothing at least. Murmuring a soft prayer under his breath, hoping that he wouldn't pick something terrible, Keith closed his eyes and let his outstretched fingers guide him. He grabbed onto a top shelf and gently brushed his fingertips along the spines that rested on it.  
  
  
"Eeny meeny miny mo..."  
  
  
He hesitated. This one was thinner than the rest. Opening his eyes, he appraised the book his finger found. It's was a hardcover, but there was no title stamped in gold leaf or emblazoned in colourful print like it's neighbours. In fact, it didn't have a title at all, instead boasting a blank royal blue swathe of leather. And it's was a strange size. Charmed by the eccentricity of this odd little book, Keith reached higher on the tips of his toes in an attempt to pluck it from the shelf, when Something barrelled into him from his left and knocked him completely off his feet.  
  
"NO! That's not your- oh!"  
  
"Asshole! Watch where you- what?"  
  
Keith, frothing with rage at what could only be described as a colossal loss of his dignity, sat sprawled on his ass on the threadbare carpet, and turned the most murderous glare at his assailant that he could muster. The man was sitting in an identical position to Keith, but his expression was so vacant as he looked at him, that for a moment, Keith worried he might be brain damaged from the impact.  
  
"What." He repeated flatly.  
  
The guy obviously became aware that he was staring something weird and blinked a few times before he remembered what he was doing. A hot flush of anger let the the blood levels in his face rise, turning his ears pink.  
  
"What are you doing here! You're creeping around like some sort of ... Creep!."  
  
Keith stared down the barrel of the man's tanned, outstretched finger that was pointing at his chest accusingly. As if he was actually trying to accuse Keith of doing something wrong. He was literally telling Keith that he shouldn't be in a place designed to take money off of people. What the hell was this guy's problem?  
  
"What the fuck man? This is a bookshop! Literally the whole point of this fucking place is to draw customers in."  
  
The man retracted his finger and his mouth dropped open slightly. The gormless expression on his face really wasn't attractive, but the rest of it wasn't that bad. Not that bad at all.  
He seemed to realise Keith was waiting for a reply and closed his mouth before evidently attempting to find something to say.  
  
"Sorry?"  
  
Keith wasn't prepared for that reply and got to his feet huffing. He brushed imaginary dirt off his trousers in a passive aggressive nod to the guy and raised a dark eyebrow at the man still sprawled on the floor.  
  
"Right well, seeing as you like it down there so much I'm going to do what I came here for."  
  
Keith felt a flicker of satisfaction as he watched the man's tanned face flush a dark pink up to the tips of his ears again. He seemed to remember the anger he had first harboured towards Keith and scrambled to his feet.  
  
"Whatever. Get a haircut mullethead."  
  
He fixed Keith with what was probably supposed to be a lofty sneer but instead made him look like he was about to sneeze, and turned on his heel before disappearing behind one of the bookcases.  
When he was gone, Keith shook his head in wonder, if the shopkeeper was actually here then he didn't envy them for having to deal with customers like that.  
Lifting his wrist, he let his eyes flick to the watch face. Late, late. He didn't have time to mess about with books and get shopping in time for work, he should probably just buy this and leave as soon as possible.

With the blue leather book in his hand he turned it over to look for the price, when he couldn't find one he guessed that the shopkeeper would know and set to working out how to escape the relative maze of crooked shelves.  
Reaching the till, he was appalled to find that there was still no one behind the desk, and his frustration was enough to pull ten dollars out of his wallet and stuff if under the cash register before storming out and letting the door slam behind him.

He'd save the blue book for later, it should be good with a glass of wine after he had finished his shift. Reaching the bike he had parked on the sidewalk, he opened the trunk and threw in his new purchase. Swinging one leg over, he thumbed the throttle and stuffed his head into the helmet. Hopefully work wouldn't be too stressful tonight, he didn't know if he could cope.

....


	2. Waldosia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith gets more than he bargained for.  
> (Tiny tiny bit of violence)

Chapter 2:  

_Waldosia- wal·do·sia [ waldōzēə]_

_n. [Brit. wallesia] a condition characterized by scanning faces in a crowd looking for a specific person who would have no reason to be there, which is your brain’s way of checking to see whether they’re still in your life, subconsciously patting its emotional pockets before it leaves for the day._

 

   He still hadn't read the book. He hadn't even opened it. It was sitting on his tiny bedside table like a thinly veiled taunt when he dragged himself out of bed the next morning. For some reason it made him nervous, and he was not quite sure why he had even bought it. He was very aware of how long it took for him to choose a book, so this time he had thought that by choosing a random one the choice would be sped up. By now however, it was beginning to look as if he had made a mistake. After all, it didn’t even have a title! Keith decided he could always return it and buy another one if necessary, and hesitantly, ever so warily, lifted it up.

The Sunday morning light dappled its fingers over the cover and Keith was faintly aware that he was stalling, as a part of his brain considered the daily schedule scrolling through his mind’s eye. Pidge was theoretically arriving at twelve but realistically Keith's generous margin for error suggested 1:30 was much more likely. He had plenty of time.

Yawn and stretch. His whole body ached like it had been mercilessly run over by a steam roller during the night, but he knew that the cause was more likely to do with the many constant hours of work Keith had put it through.

As much as he'd like to take it a little easier, anyone could tell by the bare walls of his claustrophobia-inducing skeleton of a room that Keith wasn't a wealthy man, he wasn't even a reasonably lucky one when it came to finances. This meant that he had no other choice but to work if he wanted to stay here. California would be worth it. He would make sure it was worth it.

Speaking of worth, did the book even have any? If he took it back and exchanged it for an Agatha Christie or a Stephen King, then surely it would be better than this; a $10 pile of nothing.

Keith felt the leather, warm under his fingertips and the sun's light. The cover swung open with a satisfied puff of dust onto a marbled page that looked as if someone had attacked it with a black pen.

Words had been crossed out savagely, one after the other. Some in sentences, some alone and powerful. The only one legible sat at the bottom of the list, was it the final choice?

_"Voltron"_

With a hum in his chest that anticipated disappointment, he flicked through a few of the pages. It was a notebook, the pages saturated with a black scrawling hand; each letter scrambling tumultuously one after the other as if they were in a desperate hurry for someone to read them.

Keith slammed the book closed and stood up from his bed. He felt cheated. He couldn't afford to pay $10 for someone's crappy notebook.

He thought back to yesterday and the oddity of the used bookstore that he found it in. Nothing concerning the shop had any similarities to any of Keith's usual bookstores, and many of the books it held had looked impossibly old. Perhaps there was a chance this book was one and the same to these treasures and held a secret that nobody knew; barring the author. Or it could even be the first edition of some great literary masterpiece. It was highly unlikely, but Keith had time and willingness to give it a chance.

In the time it takes for a shower to be had, the coffee to be brewed and two buttered slices of toast to be eaten, Keith had made his decision to read the notebook before deciding whether to keep it or not, and maybe even show it to Pidge- who would definitely laugh.

He settled in the single chair for his tiny table that doubled up as a desk, and let the pad of his fingertips flick to the first page...

……

_"Lance gripped the joystick like a lifeline. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck whilst somewhere in the back of his mind he chastised himself for being rattled. It didn't say a lot for his supposedly constantly cool exterior, tight situations were supposed to be his thing after all. In the back of the shuttlecraft, Hank wasn't faring any better judging from the retching, so really it was only Gunderson who was calm enough to be the one shouting orders, but Lance would be damned if he let someone do his job better than him._

_"I don't think that's advisable with our current mechanical and-gastrointestinal issues..."_

_Lance forced his face into his trademark smirk, feeling the corners of his smile shake slightly._

_"Stop worrying, this baby can take it. Can't ya champ."_

_He patted the dashboard affectionately if only to do something useful with his hands._

……

Keith's fingers had been a blur, flicking hungrily through every page without checking with his brain first. The story... It was good, no, it was stunning. Keith had read as much science fiction as he could carry any time he saw some, and this concept was up there with the greats. If there was anything Keith had a soft spot for, it would've been space school.

Sadly, the main character, Lance, could only be described as an egotistical, smarmy asshole but he decided to let it slide as Keith rarely found a protagonist he liked - they were simply all too full of themselves. But honestly? Keith couldn't wait to dive into this book and its characters and for a moment he took pride in his accidental decision to let his wandering hand pick up the notebook.

But only for a moment.

……

_All at once their breaths vanished from their lungs as they watched Sven Holgersson struggle under the arms of the guards._

_"We have to find Voltron!"_

_Voltron! What did this word mean and why was it so important that the best flyer in the fleet had been kidnapped because of it? Lance knew whatever distant danger was coming, none of them would be prepared for it._

_"Sir take a look at this. It appears his arm has been replaced with a cyborg prosthetic."_

_Through the camera they could see Iverson shuffle as he decided something._

_"Put him under until we know what that thing can do."_

_"Don't put me under! No! There's no time!"_

_Lance's felt his heart splinter in that second, as the pixelated figure of his hero - the man he had looked up to ever since he was a young boy with galactic ambitious, lay unconscious and completely powerless. Resolve built itself into the foundations of his mind. He would find Sven, whatever it took. The others' voices blurred into static as he focused on finding any way, any plan to bring him home. Gunderson put words to the feeling taking up all of his mind._

_"We have to get him out."_

.........

 

The blank page underneath the final line startled Keith. The unexpectedly stark contrast between cream page and black font almost forced him to drop the book. Instead, he felt hot tendrils of anger poke at his heart.

Bastard.

Bastard fucking shitty asshole.

Who the fuck does that? Leaving a book unfinished was a crime on the same level of murder in Keith's eyes. In fact, it was murder. A cold-blooded larceny of characters' lives that obviously had so much potential. Someone had prevented Lance from potentially experiencing character development and that was something Keith couldn't stand for. He wouldn’t describe himself as particularly heroic, but with opportunity to save _lives_ so easy to take, Keith could not help but do his duty as a reader and finish it.

The question was... how?

 

During his first year at college back in South Carolina, Keith had taken Creative Writing 101 and the only time his teacher had said anything that had stuck in his mind was on the day he quit the class.

"Keith." his professor had called him from where he was hurriedly packing up his things in a desperate attempt to get somewhere on time.

Sighing inwardly, he had paused, acknowledging that he was the last person in the room as usual. The professor was executing the perfect lean against his desk- all quaint English tweed and large ginger moustache, and beckoned him in with that charmingly quirky smile so many made fun of.

"Yes Professor?"

No matter how hard he tried to play the part of the eccentric English intellectual, it was always the strong Australian baritone that eventually gave it away.

"I understand you're dropping my class?"

He waited until Keith had inclined his head once in affirmation before continuing.

"Ah Keith, I still believe we could have made a good writer out of you yet. You have a great imagination."

Keith felt a pang of guilt. Professor Raible really wasn't a bad teacher, but he was pursuing a scientific career wholeheartedly and absolutely. There was just no time in his schedule for anything else.

"I'm sorry sir, I'm not the best writer and I don't plan to be. Not much need for plot lines and stories when you're looking through a telescope."

The professor raised a finger and his expressive eyebrows seemed to disappear into his hairline.

"I beg to differ my boy, you can always find a story in something, even you are the main character of a story- your own!"

"Mustn't be a very interesting story then." Keith muttered, and the professor didn't seem to hear, instead carrying on with his own point. It was incredible these intellectuals; they could carry on both parts of a conversation without the need of another person.

"Ah, I remember hearing from Professor Docherty that you're interested in Astronomy, did you know that even those stiff, conservatives over there in the science department have to study stories of some sort. Constellations are named after great Grecian tragedies after all! I've never understood how they can create pictures from all those funny little dots in the sky but each to their own..."

Keith had abandoned the professor to his thoughts, but his words resounded within him even now. Every person has a story that deserved to be told, even this awful Lance character.

 

And so it began. Keith grabbed the fanciest pen he owned, (which happened to be the only one that was not a biro) and set to work.

If he was of a poetic disposition, he would have described the way his pen danced across the pages like an elegant waltz, words spilling out of his mind like a thousand unfinished symphonies. As it was, he was Keith and not a poet or any kind of writer at all, so he simply wrote and wrote and wrote.

The story needed a new character, desperately. It was almost begging for someone to change up the speed of the story, and despite anything previous teachers had said about his imagination, he really didn't have any. So he could do only one thing in this situation. He knew it was a petty move, but the anger hadn't left him. This author almost deserved having a character such as this after leaving it so despicably. But what name? The name was important, what would a Keith in this world be called...

"Akira." Said his brain. "Bright, Intelligent, Clear."

Perfect.

 

.......

 

_'Hank interjected "I hate to be the voice of reason, always, but weren't we watching on TV because there was no way to get past the guards?”_

_Lance still stared at the horizon, his fingers tattooing a beat on his crossed arms. Planning._

_"That was before we were properly motivated. We've just got to think. Could we tunnel in?"_

_Ridiculous idea Lance, you've got to do better than that._

_"Maybe we could get some hazmat suits and sneak in like med techs._

_"Or we dress up like cooks, head back to the dorms, sneak into the commissary-- little late-night snack."_

_Time, time, they had no time for this._

_" No. What we need is a distraction-"_

_BANG. An explosion in the distance stuttered their conversation._

_"Is that the aliens? Is that the aliens? Are they here? They got here so quick!"_

_"No, those explosions were a distraction, for him. " Gunderson pointed a finger and Lance picked up the binoculars, only to see a figure emerge from the dust, a figure in a red jacket on some sort of ridiculous flying contraption._

_His heart pounded against his eardrums as he felt anger and something akin to panic well up within him. No, no, not him, not now... Why did that guy always have to ruin everything!_

_"The Garrison's headed toward the blast, and he's sneaking in from the other side. "_

_This wasn't fair, every time in the last moment Akira had come in to ruin all of Lance's best successes. Every single time._

_"No way! Oh, he is not going to beat us in there! That guy is always trying to one-up me! "_

_Lance ran._

_"Who is it? " Gunderson yelled as they attempted to catch up with him._

_"Akira! "_

_The asshole had arrived on some makeshift scooter thing. A scooter for god's sake!_

_"Who? "_

_"Are you sure? "_

_"Oh, I'd recognize that mullet anywhere!"_

(Keith didn't really want to name his hairstyle as a mullet but really there was no other way to describe it, and something in the back of his mind told him that the insult 'mullet head' from this Lance character would fit his personality perfectly.)

_"Who's Akira?_

_Akira stood in the doorway, balaclava pulled under intense violet eyes which screamed for a fight. His posture was relaxed but strong. A professional's stance. He knew what he was here for and they were going to let him take it._

_"These readings are off the chart." The scientists in hazmat suits had a target painted on their ever so vulnerable backs. And his targets never lasted five minutes._

_All he had to do now was wait for the perfect moment. 3, 2..._

_"Hey!"_

_1._

_His foot landed in the soft flesh of his assailant’s stomach; just below his right kidney. Akira twisted on the ball of his left foot and slammed his fist underneath his chin, hurling the man to the floor._

_When the next one ran at him, stumbling and amateurish, he grabbed a flailing arm and twisted him round. Hard. When the suited man was facing the opposite direction, he pinned the arm behind him. Akira swung his booted foot back and kicked._

_Two down. Two left._

_CRASH. The last crunching punch to the cheekbone knocked the final attacker off his feet._

_Akira leaped over the inert body to where the man lay strapped to a table. He pulled his balaclava from his face and turned the man's face towards him._

_It was... Akira's heart tripped._

_It couldn't be, he had hoped but not believed. And it was._

_After all this time._

_........_

Keith had decided he liked the character Sven from the very beginning, he was calm under stressful conditions, loyal, kind... And due to the unfortunate habit Keith had of picturing all his favourite characters as more attractive than they probably should have been, Sven stood in his mind as a particularly dashing man in his early twenties (which certainly didn't hinder any positive feeling towards him). This idiot Lance was getting far too protective over this guy however; it was time to add in some competition. Perhaps a tragic, mysterious backstory might lighten up the mood?

_......_

_"Sven?"_

_Akira didn't dare to breathe as he thought it might break the dream he knew this must be. He sliced the bindings loose with his knife and looped a listless arm around his neck._

_It turned out something else would break it instead._

_Lance strode in, all pomp and no circumstance. He hadn't changed, not even the ratty jacket he had always used to wear still hadn't been replaced. And neither had that god damn cocky bastard of a smirk._

_"Nope. No, you-- No, no, no. No, you don't. I'm saving Sven."_

_This little... Hah, Lance probably still had that whole 'rival' thing he used to be obsessed about before he left._

_"Who are you?"_

_It was hard to tame the smirk of his own from shining through. Lance was obviously not expecting that reply._

_"Who am I? Uh, the name's Lance. "_

_Silence. Nope not rising to the bait._

_"We were in the same class at the Garrison."_

_"Really? Are you an engineer?"_

_"No, I'm a pilot! We were, like, rivals. You know, Akira and Lance, neck and neck."_

_"Oh, wait. I remember you. You're a cargo pilot."_

_Boom bitch! That's how Akira slays. It was a good thing he had a decent memory, he had remembered everything about the Garrison, everyone. They had been the best days of his life._

_"Well, not anymore. I'm fighter class now, thanks to you washing out."_

_"Well, congratulations."_

_Akira turned his attention to the more important things at hand, which came in the form of getting Sven out of there before he was kidnapped for a second time._

_The met Hank and Gunderson outside, and Hank had raised the binoculars to his own eyes._

_"Oh, man. They're coming back and they do not look happy. We've got to go."_

_Akira had hoped to take Sven and run, but his hopes were foiled when the others noticed where he and Lance were headed._

_"Uh, do you mind if we catch a ride with you?"_

_This was going to be a disaster, but he had already started helping the others scramble on to his vehicle. Strangely he felt no trepidation though, it was as if he had known he was going to meet these people before he arrived - like reverse Deja Vu._

_"Is this thing going to be big enough for all of us?" Gunderson was obviously already having doubts about the whole thing, and by the looks of his expression, so did the other guy - Hank. Was it Hank? Quite rightly too. But this meant that Lance had somehow managed to find two whole intelligent friends. Pigs were flying._

_"No." Clearly._

_He thumbed the throttle and the tiny craft hummed to life, winds swirling in minuscule hurricanes around them as they lifted off into the dusty sky._

_This didn't mean it was over yet, they still had to get away safely without anyone- especially Sven, falling off. Thankfully, when Akira briefly turned his head back to check on them, Gunderson and Lance had a firm grip on Sven. They would make it. They had to, they were so close._

_"Why am I holding this guy?" Gunderson yelled over the wind._

_"Hey, we did all fit." Hank's expression was suitably impressed; a minor miracle had happened here._

_A terrible whirring noise started up behind them and Lance's head snapped around. They were gaining fast - whoever it was_ they _were. Each heart beat in time with their prayers. They could make it. They would make it. They will make it._

_"Can't this thing go any faster?"_

_Lance always did have a talent for increasing stress levels._

_"We could toss out some non-essential weight." Akira shot back._

_"Oh, right!"_

_Akira forcibly stopped his eyes from rolling as Lance actually agreed with him for a second, never mind being the brightest bulb, did this guy even light up?_

_"Okay, so that was an insult. I get it."_

_Focus Akira, this part can get tricky, especially with cargo._

_"Big man, lean left!"_

_Akira's world tilted as they swung sharply to the left. One of the wings scraped the desert sands as they came within a hair's breadth of crashing. Akira congratulated himself on such a perfectly executed manoeuvre. He tried to concentrate over Hank's babbling, he always seemed to talk when he was nervous._

_"Big man, lean right!"_

_God their screams were loud._

_Akira leant into the turn, had forgotten just exactly how thrilling flying could be._

_"Guys? Is that a cliff up ahead?" Hank pointed shakily and the horrified look on the others' faces matched his own._

_"Oh, no, no, no!"_

_"Yup." Akira attempted to restrain the grin that threatened to stretch across his face. He didn't manage it._

_He twisted the throttle and the cliff accelerated closer._

_"No, no, no!" they continued to scream._

_Were they joking? This was the best part. Akira braced himself for the fall. So Lance still wanted to be rivals? Sure, he could try and beat this- if he can. Nearly there..._

_They fell._

_"What are you doing? You're going to kill us all!"_

_Lance screamed in his ear, but it didn't matter, no one could follow them here._

_"Shut up and trust me!"_

_His hair whipped in his eyes as Akira's feet found the brakes. Pure, unadulterated exhilaration thrummed through his veins. Can't go back now. It was moments like these he wanted to capture in a bottle forever. This was how to live._

_He pulled the craft upright and an expected breath of relief escaped his lips in time to the others'. He had made it, they were safe and Sven was home. So why did he still feel like something lurked on the horizon?_

_Sven was a black silhouette in the bone dry air as he stood with his back to Akira's shack. Akira was aware of so many questions on his lips but he quelled them, Sven deserved to think about only the recovery of his freedom. Nothing more nothing less._

_Akira placed a steadying hand on the older man's shoulder and Sven's eyes softened._

_"It's good to have you back."_

_"It's good to be back."_

_Akira didn't want to know what had been shocking enough for those silver strands of hair, and he didn't even want to think about that new and terrible scar, but he couldn't help himself. The words tumbled out in worry._

_"So what happened out there? Where were you?"_

_Sven's full body sigh had a razor-sharp aim for Akira's heart. What had they done to this man? Who had put that sadness and the wisdom in his eyes?_

_"I wish I could tell you. My head's pretty scrambled. I was on an alien ship... Somehow I escaped. It's all a blur."_

_........._

Pidge found him there, a boy set in stone. Eyebrows furrowed and eyelids fluttering as thoughts swirled beneath them. Keith was curled in the uncomfortably plain chair, the book under his cheek on the desk.

Pidge gently shook his shoulder, and Keith groggily sat up.

"Hmm?"

His voice was laced with sleep and Pidge worried, not for the first time that he was working himself too hard. But now was not the time for this conversation. Pidge waved a couple of DVDs in front of his face.

"Come on you lazy ass let's binge watch these motherfuckers."

 

After the first hour, Pidge got up to grab some lunch in the form of his microwave pizza. A book was lying open on the desk. That was where Keith had been lying when Pidge arrived, could Keith had been up all night reading that?

"Keith what's that book?"

Keith twisted from where he sat on the sofa, a bowl of popcorn between his knees.

"What book? Oh that one, it's-"

He paused for a moment, looking torn as indecision clearly writhed underneath his expression.

"Nothing. I mean, it's nothing don't worry about it."

He turned back to the movie and therefore didn't see the tiny crease of worry that appeared between Pidge's eyebrows. What was Pidge going to do with that boy?

Right. The kitchen. Pizza.

 

.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (P.S I haven't got an editor which is why everything is terrible so if you see anything dodgy just send me a line if you could.)


	3. Sonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith gives out phone numbers like they're free samples and poor Shiro doesn't know what hit him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Text messaging~
> 
> [Normal text]- Keith
> 
> [Bold text] - Lance

Chapter 3:

 

 _Sonder- son_ _·_ _der [_ _ˈ_ _s_ _ä_ _nd_ _ə_ _r]_

_n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk._

 

Keith woke up to Pidge poured over him like a liquefied octopus (and twice as clingy). Pidge's hand was outstretched and he remembered how desperately the battle for the remote had been fought. Keith had won, (of course) and the loser had been fated to whine about the 'unfairness' of it all at ears deaf to Pidge's complaints.

He shook them by the shoulder perhaps a little bit more roughly than necessary but he needed to pee and his legs were numb.

"Pidge its Monday, I've got class and you've got... whatever it is you do."

Pidge groaned, and Keith took that as an opportunity to push them off him and they rolled to the floor.

"You are a horrible friend I don't know how I can stand you."

Keith shot a grin at them as he made his way to the kitchen.

"You love me really."

Pidge's phone was on the counter so he unlocked it to check the time. 7:30, so he probably could've slept longer. Damn. On the screen he saw a message, but like all Pidge's nicknames, there was no way he could tell who had sent it. "Memelord" was pretty vague after all.

"Pidge, you have a message."

He called loudly over his shoulder only to find that Pidge had followed him into the kitchen. They neatly took the phone out of his hands.

"I wouldn't call six moon emojis at 3 am a message."

Keith snorted. He didn't realise people still did that.

"Who are they, your eight-year-old cousin?"

To his astonishment, Pidge actually sighed.

"I wish, then maybe he'd be less annoying. This is his way of reminding me that I'm supposed to do him a favour today."

Keith was confused, but didn't say anything on the matter. The usual guilt he felt whenever Pidge talked about their friends or other things they had to do began to appear. It wasn't fair that they had to babysit him all the time. It wasn't their fault that he was such a social recluse.

"What's the favour?" He asked conversationally, but did not expect to see Pidge roll their eyes.

"He wants me to cover his shift at his work today, after lunch, so that he can go off and do god knows what."

Keith blinked in slow surprise and frowned.

"And you agreed? Why?"

He jumped backwards a little when Pidge practically hissed.

"He blackmailed me! That filthy- “

Pidge pinched the bridge of their nose, obviously addressing the cause of many previous headaches.

“Okay, I'm gonna have to go now."

"Do you want breakfast before you go?"

"Nah, it's alright, Matt's cooking is better than yours- no offence.

I'll see you later, and Keith?"

"Yes Pidge?"

"Make some friends at school today."

"Yes Pidge."

He saluted sarcastically as Pidge walked through the door. He looked at the clock - only 7:40. His class was at 11:00 am, damn these early riser genes.

It's not until he walked into the living room that he remembered the notebook. Its spine was broken as it sat wide open, his pen still resting on it. Waiting to be written in. Yesterday's familiar prickle of irritation had lingered, and Keith thought back to the terrible customer service he had experienced. The owner, at least, deserved to be told how much shops like his were menaces to society. He made up his mind all at once, and in the next hour or so, pancakes were angrily flipped and eaten, clothes were thrown on and the door was walked smartly out of.

The day was California warm. An underlying heat that poked and prodded at you when you were just about to forget how late in the year it was. It was really no wonder that so many people took up surfing. He followed the coastal path and watched tanned, elegant figures skim and dance over the waves. It was truly an art form. Back in South Carolina, he had tried surfing once but it had ended up being more like surviving as he attempted to beat the waves into submission. It was safe to say that he would never willingly get on a board again.

One of the figures caught his eye. A smooth silhouette in the cerulean sky and amongst the white frothing waves. They made it seem breathtakingly beautiful, a sport which epitomised Man Verses Nature instead of being a desperate attempt to stay upright. Keith could tell they were a master at their craft, carving waves into delicate, powerful shapes as they doggedly tumbled behind. Not for the first time, or for the first reason, Keith wished he had been born here.

The shop had a view out onto the ocean, the open door seemed to have sucked all the shadows in the world and kept them bottled in one place. Keith walked inside.

The clear jingle of the bell alerted the man at the desk to Keith's presence. He looked up with the easy smile that came with proper customer service and Keith could see that he was just a little older than himself with black hair and more muscles than it looked like his sweater could take.

"Hi! Welcome to Paladin Books. Can I help you with anything?"

Keith desperately tried to remember what he was doing here but the man had the overwhelming presence of an action hero. That kind of inherent kindness in a person that you could tell existed just by seeing them.

Oh, yeah, the book. He took the blue book out of his jacket pocket and placed it firmly on the antique counter with all the determination he could muster. The man's eyebrows creased in confusion.

"You can help me by letting me return this book-"

The man blinked, and Keith's eyes flicked briefly to his name tag.

"Shiro."

The man named Shiro's mouth lost its slack and the smile came back full force.

"Of course, of course. Do you have the receipt?"

And with that, Keith's mind shuts down completely. Of course he needed a receipt to return the book. And did he have one? No, because he had stormed out without so much as a glance at anyone who worked at the till. He inwardly groaned, there were only so many ways one could make themselves look like an idiot, and in his short life Keith felt like he had stumbled on at least 85% of them.

Some of this thought process apparently managed to work its way onto his face as Shiro seemed vaguely concerned that Keith had been broken.

"Are you alright...?" His tone was kind, yet uncertain.

Keith shook himself, this would be the perfect time to complain about the horrendous service he had experienced. If he couldn't return the book, he could at least make these people feel bad about it. What a neat segue.

"No I don't have a receipt, and do you want to know why? It's because there was no one on the till yesterday when I tried to buy this. No one. The shop was completely empty! Anyone could've walked in and stolen something."

Props to this guy, he was still managing to valiantly hold up the mellow smile - although it was dropping at the corners slightly. Keith could almost see the thoughts running through his head. "He's one of _those_ customers."

"So did you walk in and steal something or..."

"No, no, no! I left a $10 bill, but it's not even a book it's a-"

"I find it very hard to believe that Lance had left his post for any amount of time."

Shiro had his arms crossed now, and there was a dangerous glint to his eye.

Wait. Wait, hold the phone...

"Lance?"

"Yes Lance, he's the owner of this shop and he loves it more than all of us combined, which is pretty damn much, if you excuse my language."

Keith gasped out loud.

It couldn't be... Or could it? Keith hadn't met the real Lance, couldn't tell him apart from a crowd of people and his name was the only thing Keith had to go on but still...

The Lance in the book - what an uncanny coincidence. A name that Keith hadn't heard outside ‘50s era war films appearing twice in one moment. He wouldn't put it past this Lance character to have enough ego to write a story placing himself as the main protagonist. He snorted to himself. Oh, the irony, both Akira and Lance were self inserts.

Shiro was obviously under the impression that Keith was having an aneurysm, and looked ready to bolt for help, but Keith waved him off with a calm sweep of his hand.

"It's fine, I need to talk to this Lance though. I-"

Keith thought for a moment, would it be creepy if he asked for the details of Lance's shift? That was crossing the line at vaguely stalker-esque, he decided. Especially considering that he didn't actually know Lance. And Shiro would definitely run then. What time was it? Already ten, no way! Time couldn't have gone that fast. Would he even make the eleven o' clock lecture at this rate? He had to finish this quickly. There was only one thing he could think of to do.

"Could you give him my number?"

Shiro, utterly confused by the change in Keith's tone just stared blankly.

Keith pulled a scrap of paper from one of his college notebooks and a pen and scratched his name and phone number on it, before handing it to Shiro. He never used his phone so the unknown number who texted him back would have to be Lance. If he texted back.

Before he left, Keith called over his shoulder to the bewildered Shiro.

"Tell him, tell him I think I have something of his."

 

College was only a few miles away; he could make it if he walked fast enough. Keith had had the forethought to bring his stuff with him just in case. It was a lecture in Cosmology and he would be damned if he missed it.

Keith ended up arriving to the class with one minute to spare, he restrained himself from falling to the floor and waited for his breath to get back to normal. He took his usual seat near to the back of the lecture hall and settled down. Looking around, it was clear that no one expected the professor to be in on time as the majority were still on their phones.

Seven minutes passed, and Keith had developed just enough familiarity with the ceiling tiles thank you very much. The professor arrived and immediately launched into a comparison of the Ptolemaic Planetary Model and Copernicus' heliocentric model. Keith had a lot of respect for the guy but he was incredibly eccentric and seemed to pepper each lecture with his own conspiracy theories about ancient Stonehenge telescopes and the Mayan pyramids (which probably lowered the amount of factual content in the lecture slightly.)

Something continued to nag at him through the first few minutes of the lecture. A student Keith had maybe seen around campus had his head down and was obviously not paying attention to anything the professor was saying. Was he texting? Sure enough, when Keith squinted to look at him more, the person's fingers were flying as they tapped message after message on the tiny screen.

Now Keith was a dirty hypocrite, known for often falling asleep during lectures, however this was Cosmology, the best subject of them all. How could anyone not be fascinated by it? The rude arrogance of this student was astounding. Keith tried to focus on the lecture but his concentration had been broken by the guy. The students around him looked completely enraptured but Keith couldn't say for the life of him what the Professor had been talking about for the past few minutes.

He finally gave up when something buzzed in his pocket and he almost jumped out of his seat. The only person who ever texted him was Pidge and even they described getting Keith to reply as akin to "pulling teeth", they wouldn't contact him when they knew he was busy.

**[Hey is this Keith? Shiro texted me your number saying you wanted to talk- Lance]**

Of all the times! Keith decided to ignore the message - he refused to sink to the level of the brunet in front of him and looked up from his phone. People on either side of him glared and a girl motioned to him to put his phone away. Great. Looks like the 'level has been sunk to'.

As fascinating as the ‘Fundamental limits and Uncertainties to Measurements and Selection Effects in the field of Cosmology’ were, Keith could simply not sit still. He found that he couldn't help himself and his eyes found the rude student again. The guy kept fidgeting and tapping his fingers on the seat rest before checking his phone every few seconds. Hah. So, whoever he had been texting so badly was ignoring him. Served him right. That thought kept him happy through the duration of the rest of his disastrous lecture at least.

"... don't forget, I'm holding an extra class after lunch where I'll take a few of you up to the labs and we can work on building the radio telescope for the meteor shower next month. It's good for extra credit..."

Once student after enlightened student began to file out through the lecture theatre door, Keith took out his phone and painfully slowly sent a short message to Lance:

[Hey Lance, I found a notebook that I think is yours - Keith.]

Like a flash, he received a reply immediately. (So Lance wasn't someone to hang around. Huh, interesting.)

**[Thanks!! I've been looking for that everywhere, some asshole took it yesterday. Do you want to meet up somewhere? :)]**

Keith felt panic surge. Why the hell would he want to meet this guy? But Shiro would vouch for him and Shiro had that ultra-heroic 'aura' about him. Keith decided that he would scout the area, and if Lance looked anything near to an axe-wielding, murdering psychopath then he would get out of there as quickly as he could, change his phone number and possibly move to Brazil.

He names a coffee shop near to his apartment and Lance agrees a time. One pm tomorrow at Café Alto. Keith wasn’t quite sure what he was signing himself up for. He had intended to end the conversation there, but it looked like Lance had other plans.

……

 

**Lance: [Sooo...]**

 

You: [...]

 

**[You have my notebook??]**

 

[Yup.]

 

**[And you're going to give it back?]**

 

[That's what the whole coffee shop meeting implies, yes.]

 

**[Right yeah]**

**[Did you read it?]**

 

[I did.]

 

**[Hmm. So, what did you, uh, think???]**

 

[I think that you should finish it.]

 

**[Well I think that you should reply with longer sentences!!!! Someone might look and this and think that you didn't want to talk to me.]**

**[And don't say you don't because that's rude]**

 

[Lance, I'm at the supermarket. People are giving me weird looks]

**[What, because you're texting someone!?? You meet all sorts of weirdos at supermarkets that's probably just their face!]**

**……**

Keith sighed to himself as he ambled home and scrolled through Lance's messages. He really was as exuberant as that Voltron character. Perhaps even more so.

……

 

**[Keith]**

 

[What]

 

**[Theres this woman in front of me in the queue at the supermarket and she wOnT STOp HuMmIng.]**

[Why are you at the supermarket?]

 

**[I am a HUMAN Keith, we need to eat you know! Anyway this woman!!! Help me!!!!]**

 

[Why don't you join in? You could start a duet.]

 

**[ARE YOU TRYING TO MAKE ME LOOK CRAZY?]**

 

[No, I'm just trying to help you make friends because if you spend this much time texting me then obviously you haven't got many of them.]

 

**[Wow look at the length of that reply! I'm proud Keith, even if it was just you throwing shade at me - and I have loads of friends by the way. Loads. Probably more than you.]**

 

[Okay Lance]

 

**[Fshijjhjnvdsgs you are a horrible person and I know you don't believe me but you should. I am a very likeable person thank you very much!!!]**

 

[And your English skills are terrible.]

 

**[RUDE]**

……

For the rest of the day Lance found any excuse to blow up Keith's phone, from 'that weird smell that old people have', to a long winded, semi-love letter concerning the weather. Keith found himself enjoying the conversation, it was light and Lance was funny in his own insane way. Maybe that meant that he could dread tomorrow a little less. He didn’t quite know why, in fact, he was dreading it at all. Perhaps it was because of the possibility of danger? He doubted it, the Café would be well lit in daylight with plenty of witnesses. He wouldn’t get murdered. Or maybe it was the inevitability of it all. Two strangers passing like ships in the night, guided by the eternal ebb and flow of the universe. They would exchange a book for a ‘thank you’ and never meet again. That was how it would be and yet something in Keith wished it could be different. That there could be a deeper meaning in it all.

(Not to mention he very much wanted to know what happened to the story when Lance finished the book.)

He unlocked the door of his tiny flat and walked upstairs, still pondering. He had already accepted that his phone would be perpetually buzzing from now on and somehow, the constant buzz against his leg was a comfort. He had made an imprint in the world and now the times were rolling steadily on. What the future might hold, Keith had no idea. But that tiny hum every few seconds made him think that it was going to be alright in the end.

Until tomorrow, Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Yes Lance went to the supermarket because he hoped he might spot Keith even though he doesn't know what he looks like because Lance is like that, and yes Lance is a surfer boi, and finally- yep you got it, Lance is that texting asshole)
> 
>  
> 
> p.s: this chapter may be changed in the coming future as it isn't at its best.


	4. Phosphenes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Wild Shallura is horrified by a customer's coffee choices but Keith beats them to the punch. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Text Messaging~
> 
> [Normal text] - Keith
> 
> [Bold text] - Lance
> 
> [Bold Italic text] - Shiro

Chapter 4:

_Phosphenes phos_ _·_ _phene [_ _ˈ_ _f_ _ä_ _sf_ _ē_ _n]_

_n. the light and colours produced by rubbing your eyes._

 

Keith couldn't sleep and he knew it was Lance's fault. Never mind the fact that he would have texted him until it could be argued it was morning if Keith had let him, Keith couldn't get the possibility of meeting him out of his head. What would he look like? How old would he be? And would his voice match the fluid bubbliness of his texts, or the smooth tenor Keith had imagined Voltron being written in? (Not that he had imagined Lance's voice reading Voltron at all.)

Keith knew he was obsessing as he absentmindedly studied the dark ceiling of his tiny room. He guessed it was because he had an opportunity to meet someone out of the direction of Pidge or school. Maybe they would hit it off? Keith was aware of the number of odds swelling against his ideas, but they were born in the twilight and thoughts in the night are never made for telling.

......

 

**[Do you have a job?]**

[...]

 

[Yes why?]

 

**[No no I was just wondering]**

**[You know where I work after all haha]**

[I work at the Shack, do you know it?]

 

**[That bar just past Tango's on the high street??!!]**

[That’s the one]

 

**[Cool]**

**[Cool beans]**

......

 

Now Keith was not a morning person in the usual situation but three hours' sleep worsened his usual morning world-directed hatred inordinately. He had woken up at 2 and 5 am again, a habit that he had hoped to have lost since his move to California. Well, they do say old dogs can't learn new tricks. It was safe to say the day would have to begin as a Two-Shot-Black-Coffee morning.

One Pm. The time was drawing nearer, hours skipping by without a glance to the past. Keith knew that the feeling gnawing at him was ridiculous, but it was one thing talking to a comparative stranger over text, and seeing him face to face. He couldn’t be sure whether this was because he had already formed his own opinion of Lance through their copious amount of conversation squeezed into the barely passed hours, but more importantly- his notebook.

They say that people write because they need to get things off their chest, to say things that they could never put into words in any other way because they simply didn’t have a reason to say them out loud.  This writing ‘condition’ that they share forces these individuals to become lonely creatures. Or more accurately, they begin that way. But with Lance the impressions didn’t fit together; this man was a piece from an entirely different jigsaw. How could he be lonely, this person who seemingly had more bounding energy than Keith could ever dream of, had more love to share than Keith could even imagine?  He was one messy contradiction after the other. Keith didn’t know which way to look.

……

 

**[HELP ME]**

 

[Are you okay?]

**[It’s Hunk’s birthday soon, and I don’t know what to get him!!!]**

 

[And you think I would have any idea? I don’t even know who Hunk is!]

**[He’s my best friend]**

**[So if you were an amazing guy who loves to cook and are fantastic at cooking and are just like a bear hug if it were a person, and you’re really good at surfing and you’ve already got every meme present it’s possible to give to someone, what would you want?]**

 

[I don’t know??]

 

[Get him something unique, like taking him for a day out at a theme park or throwing him a party with all the people he likes or something?]

**[:0000000]**

**[You’re the best Keith!]**

……

You don’t know him Keith. You don’t know anything about him. But that was the problem, because Keith _felt_ like he did. It was because of that notebook. Keith could tell that Lance had poured everything he had out onto those cream pages like a hurried substitute for a soul. Consequently, his personality was pressed into each of his characters like a perfectly preserved leaf. A work of art that wasn’t meant to ever be studied. In reading it, Keith had stumbled upon something somehow more personal and intimate than was comfortable sharing with a stranger-

Keith shook himself, there was no time for any Sleep-Deprivation-Induced emotional crises, he was going to meet the man and they would maybe have a drink and talk about the book. Then he would give Keith the standard cheerful wave, and off he would walk, into his own future, leaving Keith with a vacated ‘possible friend’ chair in his collection of one. And that was fine.

Maybe he would need another coffee.

It’s a Tuesday, better than a Monday, slightly less satisfying than a Wednesday and holding nowhere near the amount of joy that a Friday afternoon brings. If nothing else, Keith was glad it was a Tuesday because it meant that the Café probably wouldn’t be as full as it usually was. Café Alto was currently Keith’s favourite coffee shop, which said a lot about it seeing as the boy in question had a borderline obsession with the roasted bean juice, and had sampled examples from every place imaginable (in a ten-mile radius from his apartment.) Unluckily for the peace-loving Keith, everyone else seemed to have the idea and the place was renowned for being full to the brim during peak times. It was a wonder no one had tried booking a reservation. Keith would have felt immense pity for the staff members if not for the rumour the tips they got were astronomical.

Tuesday at one pm in the afternoon was a good time for a coffee it seemed. Keith filed the titbit of knowledge away somewhere as he scanned the room for any sign of Lance. The room was relatively full but there were still a few spare seats here and there, no one sat alone however.  Keeping his eye on a table for two in a particularly quiet nook of the room, Keith wandered to the counter. On looking up at the smiling barista, his order died on the tip of his tongue.

“Shiro?”

The man looked bemused as he took in Keith’s evident surprise.

“That’s right, I gather you managed to talk to Lance in the end? I think you wrote your name down, what was it again…?

“Keith. Keith Kogane.”

Shiro’s lips quirked, and it wasn’t the carefully polite smile of the day before, this one seemed to have an ulterior motive.

“Yes, I remember now. It’s good to meet you properly Keith. Can I get you anything to drink?”

Shiro smiled warmly and Keith was about to rattle off his usual order when his eyes began to flutter shut.

“Actually a triple shot espresso would be great right now.”

Shiro raised an amused eyebrow.

“Not feeling too great?”

Keith sighed, when he had a heart attack at twenty-five, he could blame it on the caffeine, but right now it was his god.

“This is my fifth one today.”

Shiro winced in empathy and set about to make him his drink.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why do you work here and at the bookshop?”

As soon as the words left his lips Keith wished he had never let them. That was probably too weirdly personal for a café queue conversation, but Shiro just laughed, most likely at Keith’s expression.

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind telling you. Do you see this scar here?”

He pointed to a faint line that ran across his nose and cheekbones that Keith had noticed but didn’t think anything of. He wondered if whatever had caused it was a common incident because he had the vague impression he’d seen it on someone else. Keith nodded.

“I was in the Air Force for a while, thought it was going to be my career for life, you know? I got fairly high up until I got injured and they gave me a medical discharge. I’m just doing this until I get my degree because I need the money.”

Alright so it was pretty personal, but Shiro didn’t seem bothered and just handed him his drink. Keith thanked him and left him to greet the customers who had just walked in.

"Welcome to Café Alt-hey! A-Allura! It’s, uh, nice to see you in here."

Keith glanced back to see that there was a slight dusting of pink over the older man’s cheeks. The woman who had walked in was stunningly beautiful with an inhuman grace to her step. As Shiro’s probability of spontaneous combustion rose, likely due to the woman resting her arm on the counter and laughing prettily over something he’d said, Keith shook his head in amazement. The coffee here was so divine it was no wonder actual gods and goddesses came to drink it. Keith caught Shiro’s eye and winked, leading the poor man to manage somehow to become even more flustered than before.

Unbeknownst to Keith, someone behind him was having a conversation so dramatic that the excessive use of arm gestures was deemed necessary. So dramatic in fact, that these arms waved in the path of an unsuspecting mullet-haired boy who at that very moment of time was congratulating himself on a successful social encounter. One arm, (it was the right arm if you want to get technical about it) was attached to a hand holding an enormous triple caramel, gingerbread and hazelnut pump monstrosity; its Everest of cream wobbling perilously on top. This coffee was an eyesore, it barely contained any actual caffeinated liquid and all roasted bean flavour had been waved a teary goodbye to a lifetime ago. This thing could give a person cavities through one look at it. It was dangerous, it undoubtedly should have been illegal, and it was headed on a collision course that would not end well for either Keith or its owner…

The inevitable does occur. Keith’s scream of rage is that of a wounded beast and causes the scene to gain an audience that includes the entirety of the café’s occupants. The Gesturer looks up, any hope of reprimanding Keith for being in the way wiping off his tanned face in an instant.

The deadly stillness of the café was palpable. Keith wiped a dollop of cream from the tip of his nose and brushed as much of the rest of the dismantled beverage off his sweater as he could.

“Oh shit.” The guy whispered.

“Oh shit.” His friend agreed.

When Keith growled, the other man let out an involuntary squeal of terror as the bloody murder in Keith’s eyes detained his petrified gaze.

“It’s _you._ ”

 The guy attempted to scramble to his feet and almost tripped over his chair.

“Yeah, well, I’m very sorry and everything but- hey, a little help here- “

“Do you enjoy knocking people over? Is this a habit with you, Asshole?”

The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he visibly gulped. His eyes still hadn’t left Keith’s and they were wide with fear. Slowly, he lifted a finger and pointed.

“You’ve got a little bit of cream, just there.”

Keith lunged.

When Keith himself looks back on the incident, he finds that he cannot recall much about it. However, some of the events are incredibly vivid.

In the second before Keith’s fist reached Asshole’s cheek, Allura had inexplicably crossed the room and placed a firm hand between them. Unfortunately, Keith was an almost unstoppable force to Allura’s less than immovable object and the floor, slick with evil beverage, proved to be the downfall of the three of them.

Keith was the only one left standing, but his balance was severely compromised and his hands flailed wildly. Across the room, Shiro had been attempting to reach them but instead seemed to spot a new hazard and yelled.

“Look out! Your coffee!”                                                   

Keith’s reactions weren’t quick enough. He felt the boiling liquid through his shoe and howled in pain. All the blood had drained from Asshole’s face and Shiro’s hands flapped as he tried desperately to help somehow. Meanwhile Allura had taken it upon herself to begin to collect the shards of shattered mug from the floor.

“I’ll buy you a new coffee- no _you_ can, seeing as it’s all your fault.”

He addressed Asshole who furiously countered with a: “No it is not! _He_ walked into _my_ hand!” but Keith had had enough with all of this and let them bicker.

“It’s fine Shiro, don’t worry about it.”

Keith strode out the room with his head held defiantly high- up until the point at which he tripped over a small, flat object someone had left on the floor. He didn’t fall, but his face still burned with red hot embarrassment and he forced himself not to look down, choosing to prioritise getting out of there as fast as he could.

He virtually sprinted out of the café, and stopped a few streets away to draw in a long breath; his back to brick wall. That had been a complete disaster. Keith was so discombobulated that he couldn’t even remember the reason he had been in the café – he hid his face in his hands, that’s right! The damn book! And he couldn’t go back in there, not after that calamity. Keith would be lucky if he would be able to go back there after a month of wallowing in mortification. Goodbye sweet, heavenly coffee. He reached inside his jacket for the notebook that had been the root of this entire mess and grasped at nothing.

No, not now. Not after that debacle. Keith resigned himself to the fact that the ‘Percentage of Embarrassing things Keith has Done’ had risen to 97% in the past fifteen minutes, but this, this took the cake.

The buzz in his pocket was the last straw on Keith’s ruined composure’s back. He let out a manly yelp and scrabbled for the phone. What the fuck did they want now?

 

**[Are you at the cafe?]**

 

Lance. Shit. What was he supposed to say? “Whoops, I accidentally lost your super precious, treasured notebook at some café that I stood you up at.” But he could think of no other way. Why not tell the truth?

……

 

[No I left]

**[Ahh phew! So did I! I was wondering if you thought I stood you up]**

 

[Did you?]

**[Not intentionally!!]**

**[Also, Shiro wanted to text you, I hope it’s alright??]**

 

[Yeah no problem]

**[Okay great! I think you already gave him your number haha!]**

……

Sure enough, Keith phone vibrated with a new message. He was incredibly relieved that Lance had left, it made him feel a lot less guilty about it all. And now Shiro wanted to talk to him? Maybe it was to admonish him for almost starting a fight in his café and making him look like an idiot in front of the girl he liked. Well, Keith reminisced fondly, he hadn’t needed any help with that.

……

 

Message from: Unknown number

 

**[ _Is this Keith? Takashi Shirogane here. I just wanted to know that I found your notebook on the café floor after you left. I was wondering whether you wanted it back or if I should give it to Lance? I hear it was his in the first place. Thanks – Shiro_ ]**

 

[Hi Shiro, you should probably give it to Lance. Thank you for finding it.]

****

**_[ :) ]_ **

…...

 

Keith vowed to take a day off to do something relaxing soon. Maybe he’d see if there were any motorbike racing circuits around here? That was a possibility, Keith had always relished the speed and the perfect, ecstatic thrill that his beloved bike provided, and he knew he was good enough to try. There was danger, sure. He had never signed up for a race simply because of the exceedingly high risk of injury, and he valued the completion of his studies more. But he needed to get Lance out of his head, he needed to find a way to stop leaning on Pidge and stand on his own feet. Make his own friends and join a new crowd. Each day that went on seemed to be more stressful than the one that came before and he needed a way out. Desperately. These were supposed to be the best years of his life. He had the framework, had the structure of a life far enough from South Carolina and his numerous demons to call this place safe. All that was stopping Keith was Keith. And he knew this, so why was it so hard?

 

……

 

 

18:42:

 

**[I've just read over my book, just to remember exactly what it was I last wrote because it's been a while seeing as SOMEONE stole it]**

**[And do you know what? It looks like that someone even wrote- no, GRAFFITIED on it]**

**[But you wouldn't know anything about that wOULD YOU KEITH?]**

 

[Umm]

 

[I can explain]

**[Really]**

**[Keith]**

**[? ? ? ? ?]**

**[ And how would you do that then??]**

 

[Well I bought it, I spent actual money on it and therefore it is technically mine, meaning I can do whatever I want with it. If you don’t want it, why the hell did you put it on a shelf in a bookstore?!]

**[It was purposefully on a shelf no one buys anything from!!]**

 

[Obviously, you’re wrong. Someone bought something from it.]

 

[That someone being me. Because I own it now. As in you owe me $10 if you’re going to keep it.]

 

**[ARE YOU ALWAYS THIS INFURIATING?!?]**

 

[Evidently.]

 

**[UGH FINE. I’ll give you your money back.]**

**[You better be glad I like you Keith, I might’ve said no otherwise.]**

 

[…]

 

 

……

 

 

01:49:

 

**[ Keith are you awake?]**

 

[yeah]

 

**[I’m gonna carry on the story, from where you left it. I’ll tell you when I’m done]**

 

[ok]

 

**[:)** **]**

 

**[ Go to sleep Keith]**

 

[i’ll try]

 

……

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The squad is slowly forming, and Keith is my small, awkward son  
> (For those who are worried, don't, it may be slow burn but the burn will come soon enough. ;))
> 
> Also I don't know if this is too text heavy??? Opinions welcomed!


	5. Mellifluous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING : Violence (not that much but there is some.)
> 
> Keith wastes paper and makes new friends, and Lance has not passed any first aid courses.

Chapter 5

_Mellifluous mel_ _·_ _lif_ _·_ _lu_ _·_ _ous [m_ _əˈ_ _liflo_ _͞_ _o_ _ə_ _s]_

_adj. (of a voice or words) sweet or musical; pleasant to hear:_

 

It had been a week and a half since Lance and Keith had begun this odd little habit, and now he had become accustomed to including a trip to Paladin Books in his routine every few days. Somehow, he was managing to juggle writing a couple thousand words and all his studies during his evenings, but he suspected that that may have been due to a complete lack of an active social life. But Keith had no qualms, there was absolutely nothing wrong with living vicariously through a fictional character. Absolutely nothing at all.

How did this start, Keith wondered? How had he managed to catch himself quite so completely in Lance’s world?

The answer, as it usually does, lay amongst the letters.

The very first time Keith received a letter, it had been the day which came after the event later referred to fondly as the ‘Catastrophic Second Meeting.’ The morning had been mild, and Keith, following Lance’s explicit instructions, followed the coastal path that existed as a shortcut to the waterside, whilst the ocean endlessly sauntered up to meet the shoreline until it evidently thought better of it, and leisurely rolled back the other way. An eternal loop.

“Good Morning Keith!”

“It is, isn’t it.”

Keith didn’t go so far as to smile at Shiro that morning, as he moved automatically to the place where he knew the tiny blue book would be, but it was a close thing; the sun had left a shard of a twinkle in his eye. Shiro was fascinated at the apparent progress from the angry boy he had first met. He watched, tentatively curious, when the boy glided past Whitman and Wilde, and reached above a beautifully embellished black and gold ‘Gatsby. Sure enough, there it sat, its cobalt cover starting to look a little worn around the edges from rough handling. Shiro had questions on his lips of course, but he wouldn’t ask them, it was far too entertaining.

The letter in question had been written on a succession of bright pink post-it notes under the last page of fresh writing, with a ten-dollar bill used as a bookmark, a slither of the edge poking out to indicate the page. Face hidden by a curtain of shadow from a nearby shelf, Keith couldn’t help it when his lips kindled a small smile. There was no question about it, Lance was utterly and incurably insane.

 ......

**“Dear Keith - Part Time notebook Thief and serial Grammar Nazi,**

**I, Lance, am a naturally very forgiving person, and my vibrant personality is just another facet to my ultimate perfection.**

**However,**

**I must admit that even one such as I, who comes a whisper-fine line away from the Perfect Man must draw a line somewhere. And that somewhere is right here. You have the gall to STEAL my MASTERPIECE of a notebook from its rightful place in MY bookstore, and then! Yes, then you have the audacity to ACTUALLY WRITE IN IT. And do you know what? I wouldn’t be that mad, maybe, if all you had done was carry on the storyline for a chapter or two. But nooo, Keith has to try and push fantastic Space Lance out of Main Protagonist spot by adding Mr-High-And-Mighty-Oh-So-Attractive-And-Hella-Badass Akira! AND IF THAT WASN’T THE WORST PART- Mr Keith then somehow manages to write an action scene ten times better than any one of mine! Why you gotta show me up this way, my guy?! Haven’t you done enough???**

**So, because I cannot stand the imagined sight of a mullet in my story, (and neither can I stand this ‘Akira’ character, who is exactly the sort of person to wrongly believe that a mullet constitutes as a legitimate haircut) I have decided that it would be for the best if you dealt with him every time his POV appeared in the plotline. This is a heavy responsibility for someone like you to hold, I know. But do your best, even if it won’t add up to much, and do try and refrain from ruining the narrative anymore.**

**Yours Disdainfully,**

**Lance (you know the actual author)**

**P.S: Here’s your damn money you cheapskate.”**

 

….

 

Shiro had looked up when Keith actually laughed out loud, and instead of looking confused, he appraised Keith with a knowing smile when he walked to the counter. He tried to pay with the ten-dollar bill, but instead, Shiro winked at him and drew a note from his own pocket.

"It's on the house today, I have a feeling you'll be back."

Keith leaves the shop with a cobalt blue notebook tucked neatly under his arm and a barely noticeable red tinge to his cheeks.

That evening Keith spent approximately two hours trying to perfect his own reply. Thirty-two edits later, he took a packet of newly bought post it notes and contemplated how to finish the chapter.

 ......

 

**"Dear Lance,**

**I am terribly sorry for ruining your 'Masterpiece'. Although, I'm not sure that I believe it is yours anyway considering the substantial difference between "Asdffhjjskijsnjaujiuusi!!!!!€)" in your texts, and " gall " or "ephemerality of life." (Who even says 'gall', are you sure you're not eighty?)**

**To be honest, I'm not sure whether 'ephemerality' is even a word and adding to that, I am concerned about the size of some of the words in the novel - the story might be better if it didn't sound as if it was barfing a dictionary (Also, barfing is a horrible word, never use it.) I know you hate my opinions but there are a few grammar points that I think you need to sort out, but I can't be certain as I am not fantastic at grammar myself.**

**Do you have an actual plot with this- like is there a villain/goal? Because it's hard to write without one, I've written the next chapter anyway. Leave it in the same place?**

**Yours Deplorably**

**Keith**

**P.S: Thanks for the money, I have given it back to you so that Shiro still makes some business."**

……

From there it had spiralled into the type of mess that forced Keith to buy more post it notes and write back every few days.

He found himself looking forward to every interaction with Lance. They weren't friends, so to speak, but Lance's messages broke up the monotonous day and he welcomed them.

.......

 

17:37:

 

[Did you get it Lance?]

 

**[Hmm?]**

**[Oh your letter! Yeah I'm just drafting a reply now.]**

 

[Cool. Is the fight with Zarkon soon?]

**[Yup, how do you spell 'cretin' as in 'you illiterate cretin who can't tell the difference between a simile and a metaphor'?]**

 

[Like that I think.]

 

**[Ok thanks!]**

**[Do you think 'cretin' is a bit too much?]**

 

[A little yes.]

 

**[What about 'pleb'?]**

 

[stop.]

 

**[:) <3]**

 

.....                                    

 

That day, there was a grey cloud in the sky; ominous and all-encompassing. Keith had grown up as a southern boy, used to suffocating hot days and the dry stillness of the atmosphere. But he still remembered the rain. On rare occasions, the heavens would open and let pour billions of calibred drops onto the town. Andrew used to say that the sky had a quota for rain, and whilst cooler places efficiently added a little to the days here and there, here, they forgot until the end of the year and used all the rain up in one go, for one long, last day. Even so, Keith was never prepared for the rain. He used to get caught up in the flood of people rushing inside under brightly coloured umbrellas that were kept in storage closets for the rest of the year, and wondered how everyone had seemed to know the storm was coming except him.

When Keith walked into the bookshop, it was not Shiro at the counter, but someone with a wide, friendly grin and a surfers' headband (He could also rock yellow, which was something Keith greatly respected.)

Keith briefly considered asking what days Lance had shifts since he had never actually seen him work. But something stopped him. Keith didn't even know what Lance looked like, let alone the fact that the other man may not be particularly pleased to see him. They were practically strangers after all.

Instead, he took the blue book out of his jacket whilst Hunk gave him an odd look.

"Wait a second, are you Keith?"

"Yeah."

"Lance says to tell you to 'leave it on the top of the historical vehicle section because it's safer there, no one ever buys anything'. I have no idea what 'it' is and frankly, knowing Lance, I don't want to."

"Historical Vehicle section?"

"At the back, next to the window. Hey, do you want a coffee? You look like you need one, and the weather isn't fantastic."

Ah. So the mysterious coffee machine makes its first appearance.

With a coffee in hand; oil black and no sugar, he checks the time on his watch. He's covering for Alessandro today and his shift starts at four thirty, or to be more accurate, two minutes ago.

Afternoon shifts meant getting ready for the evening surge, but the Shack still had regulars that had loitered since opening time. Keith parked his bike out back and threw on his bartending uniform.

There were a few new men at the bar who sat next to a regular named Mark who appeared to have taken a liking to Keith. Keith knew that this attention was definitely not because of his flirting, (not that there was any flirtation anyway and besides, no one can beat Alessandro on that front; the man is Italian) so he guessed it was because of his ability to down his shots with the best of them.

He chatted a little with Mark and the others whilst washing up glasses, finding out that they had travelled across the country to visit an old friend. Sometimes Keith wished that he had that amount of freedom.

The Shack is a warm sanctuary, and many of the surfers who aren't brave enough to try the bigger waves trudge inside bringing sand into the bar. Keith finds himself rushed off his feet.

By two am, he's seen the last stragglers out and locked the door to the Shack. He's dead on his feet and his hands won't obey him as he tries to fit the key in the lock. At around eight it had begun to rain and it didn't look as if it would let up soon. Keith was not looking forward to driving home in the dark and the downpour.

Keith pulled his thin coat tighter around himself and turned. There was a figure by his motorbike. Keith peered through the water cascading through his eyelashes and from the dim orange light from a nearby lamppost, he could vaguely see the outline of a face.

"Mark?"

"Hello Keith. I'm here to pass on a message."

He let a hand sweep towards Keith's motorbike- only, it wasn't in the shape of a bike anymore.

Each piece had been painstakingly taken apart and lay stacked on top of each other in a mountain of silver metal shining dully in the lamplight. Some kind of viscous substance glinted on the surface of the corpse of the bike and a shudder ran through Keith's bones. This was wrong, he could practically taste the danger in the air. But he couldn't do anything apart from wait for the inevitable.

Something in Mark's outstretched hand clicked and a tiny light appeared. He stepped back and threw the tiny bright object at the pile.

"Jamie sends his love."

The fire blazed in a curtain of intense heat. At the sound of the name, Keith's throat closed as he took in too sharp a breath and his eyes stung. He knew he didn't have the right to be surprised but he had been naive; not wise enough to worry.

Mark turned and walked back into the shadows of the alleyway but still Keith's feet refused to move. The funeral pyre burned high and brightly on.

The chaotic fear that raged through Keith's head was enough of a distraction from the movement behind him. He didn't see the others until their hands were steel bars around his arms and he felt a stripe of pain on the back of his skull. Keith cried out.

The world went black.

 

.....

 

He awoke to the slabs of filthy concrete pressing against his cheek. He tried to lift his head up and only just succeeded; it throbbed louder than Keith's scrambled thoughts and he sat up. Drunkenly reaching into his jacket he found his phone. It was lit by the still-flickering light of the bonfire. The rain had dulled the flames until they were barely a flicker, thank God for this awful weather.

He tried to protect his phone from the water by hunching over it, but some stray raindrops still fell on the glass screen. He needed help but who would he call?

He could call Pidge but he didn't know what they could do; they didn't have a car and they are probably still at work. He had no other friends or family nearby. Somehow, only one option occurs to Keith, it's not the most practical and it's definitely not logical in any form. Later, he would blame it on a concussion, but even in the moment, he was not sure why it seemed so certainly the right thing to do. He selects a contact on his phone.

Lance picks up on the first ring.

"Dios mío, this is- Keith? Yes? "

Lance's voice was nothing like Keith had expected, it was a soft contrast over the crackling of the telephone line and his words were both new and yet strangely familiar.

"Yeah, it's Keith. Listen, Lance. I know it's late and I don't know you but I need help and I don't know who else to call."

Keith thought he could hear his words droop into a slur at the ends, he prayed Lance wouldn't notice.

Lance, hearing the hysteria in Keith's voice decided to refrain from making any comments about the time of night and spoke in what he hoped was a calming voice. He tried his best not to yawn.

"Yeah? What can I help you with?"

Keith took a deep breath, trying desperately to force the panic down.

"After I locked up, three guys appeared and knocked me out. My bike's ruined and there are no buses, it's too far to walk home in the dark and I have no one else to call, do you know someone who could give me a ride? I'm sorry I know it's late-"

"Calm down Keith, are you hurt?"

Keith gingerly felt the back of his head and his fingers came away, stained with a dark substance. He took a deep breath.

"No, I'm fine. If you can't find me a ride, then don't worry about it, I'll walk or something."

"If I wasn't four hours away I'd give you a ride myself Keith. I had a feeling you were a loner from your taste in music. I'll get you a ride, just let me call Shiro."

All at once Keith was hit with the realisation that this voice belonged to the man he had been getting to know for the past few weeks. The tiredness in Lance's voice could even be mistaken as a tiny note of fondness.

"How did you know-?"

"What kind of music you liked? I'm pretty sure that in chapter four Akira was listening to vintage Good Charlotte or something as bad."

"Oh yeah." Keith let out a breath that was half a sodden chuckle and they sat in a comfortable silence.

"Thank you, Lance."

"It's no worry, let me call you back after I've called Shiro. He'll probably be about a half hour so I'll keep you company?"

"You don't have to do-"

"It's fine Keith, stay out of the rain if you can, I'll call you back okay."

When Lance hung up, Keith's breath left him all at once and he curled himself into a ball against both the cold and the sobs threatening to escape his chest. Icy cold rivulets trickled down his back and down his face and made him shiver harder, but they mixed with the hot tears falling down his own cheeks and he didn't notice them.

A wave of nausea overtook Keith and he swayed a little. His head was spinning and the world was getting a little darker at the edges. Lance, Lance was going to call back...

The phone buzzed in his hand which was numb from the cold. Wearily, he held it to his ear.

"Keith?" Lance's voice was tinny from the speakers but still managed to provide a welcome warmth.

"Still here." His voice was hoarse.

"Shiro's on his way- Keith are you alright? Stay on the line with me, wait a moment I've just got to get something."

Keith gave a noncommittal grunt as he heard footsteps from the other end of the line, Lance had put him on speaker phone.

After a few moments of silence, Lance came back.

"Are you inside?"

"No, I locked up, I can't open it without the manager."

Lance huffed frustratedly.

"Keith get your ass indoors or I swear I'll come over there and make you."

Keith chuckled to himself and for a moment he forgot the cold.

"Okay Mom, but how will Shiro know where I am?"

"You work at the Shack right? I told him you'd be inside, you know, in the warmth. So if you want him to find you, you'd best do that."

Keith sighed and kept the phone to his ear, as with a lot of effort, he dragged himself up to his knees. One short glance to the dead bike left his stomach roiling, so he trudged over to the back door of the bar. He fumbled for his keys and nearly dropped them whilst opening the door. Eventually, it swung open and he reached to a place he knew off by heart and flicked a light switch. Closing the door behind him, he slid down it to the floor and lifted the phone to his ear.

"Lance I'm inside."

Lance's obviously relieved sigh fluttered against his eardrum.

"Cuídate- look after yourself, Keith. Are you comfortable?"

"Yeah."

Keith was as comfortable as the concrete floor would allow him to be.

"I might as well read you the next chapter then."

"Lance you don't have to-"

"Shh, don't worry about it, it's until Shiro gets there is all."

Keith relented and his breathing fell in time with the softly steady rhythm of Lance's voice. The way he read was so different to his speech and his texts. Lance had a storyteller's voice, with intonation rippling like water, each word he spoke telling a story of their own. Waves of calm washed over Keith.

Lance really was a puzzle to Keith. From all his bad jokes and his bragging, bubbly insults, it was disquieting to realise that such a different person lay underneath. Someone who would respond to a virtual stranger call at half two in the morning and then attempt to help that stranger in any way he could. It was like every time he thought he had figured the other boy out, another deeper layer was unlocked, confusing every other impression into the mad mess that made up Lance.

But there was one thing that Keith was sure of, a trait that ran deep within Lance. He may try to hide it with all of his exuberant Lance-ness, but underneath it all, he _cared._ So much so, that even someone like Keith who barely knew him could be on the receiving end. Keith didn't think people like that existed.

_"Akira moved quietly through the castle. His feet were light and his heart was anything but. In space, time stretched on with a painful loneliness to its infinite expanse, and the long starry nights were only broken up sporadically as they orbited a distant star._

_The hallways were not lit up electrically (or whatever the alien equivalent for electricity was) but a constant fog of light streamed in through the large windows. When everyone was asleep it felt like the universe had stopped. He liked it this way, it reminded him of his shack in the desert - devoid of souls and all of it his own._

_Maybe one day, he would consider the paladins and the castle his home. Maybe one day he wouldn't spend his nights in the arena, his bayard moulding into the calluses on his hands like a second limb, forcing strike after strike on unresisting foes._

_Their faces changed every time he hit them. Sometimes it was people he knew - Zarkon, the Commander at the Academy. Other times they were faceless and whispering, merely shades of a feeling or a memory Akira wanted to beat out of himself._

_This night was different. He wasn't alone._

_Someone sat on the steps leading to the arena in the near-darkness. There was a relaxed shape to their figure, but the fact that they were there, like him, suggested there was more to it. Turning their head towards Keith, the person let out a small puff of startled breath._

_Lance considered Akira for a moment before tapping the step beside him. Surprising himself, Akira took up the offer and sat._

_"Rough night? Or surely it's morning by now."_

_"Couldn't sleep."_

_"Yeah, me neither buddy, is this a regular thing for you? Should I find another place to cry or what?"_

_Akira might describe Lance to himself (and others) as annoying, narcissistic, whiny, egotistical- well, the list goes on. But in reality, Lance was just a boy far from home who missed his family. None of the paladins had forgotten the feeling of the mind-meld and the furious, steady longing for family that had emanated from Lance. Akira knew he was just as bad, really, they weren't so different._

_"No, it's okay you can stay. In fact- did you want to get some training in before Princess Farla realises how terrible you are."_

_Akira couldn't help himself, insulting Lance came naturally to him and he wondered if he would ever know if he had crossed the line - after all, Lance evidently had problems too. But Lance's eyes softened and his mouth formed a genuine smile that was for Akira only, in a way that suggested he knew what Akira had meant; which was frankly amazing considering Akira himself didn't even know what he had offered. He stood up, offering a helping hand._

_"I'd like that. Thank you."_

_Akira didn't really know Lance; not his favourite colour or reason for joining the Academy- not anything but the superficial. Lance was Lance, it was harder to see past all that then the rest of the paladins. But as Akira took the hand and pulled himself to his feet he mulled it over. If he did get to know Lance better, he concluded, then it really wouldn't be a tragedy at all..."_

 

.......

 

_"…Keith, Keith! You've got to stay awake... please Keith-...!"_

Lance's voice was muffled white noise. Keith couldn't stop his eyes from rolling shut, and the blackness consumed him once more.

 

......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for my bad Cuban Spanish. If you are able to help me translate then that would be fantastic. :)


	6. Luminescence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith did in fact, know all the words.

Chapter 6 

_Luminescence_ _lu·mi·nes·cence_ _[ˌ_ _lo͞oməˈnesəns_ _]_  

 _Noun the emission of light by a substance that has not been heated,_  

 

Keith didn't fully wake up until half eight the following morning when he opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. He had only vague flashes of memory from the night before - or more accurately, earlier that morning, and the only concrete thing he remembered was someone carefully lifting him to his feet and taking him to a car, and snippets of a phone conversation that he couldn't quite hear. 

There was a gentle patter of rain on the windows, and the morning sun had only just begun to steal through the curtains. Keith blearily acknowledged his surroundings. He didn't recognise the room at all, but the minimalist white walls, a desk and a single wardrobe looked so much like his own room that he guessed he was in another student pad. 

(Or possibly a serial killer's, but during finals it was pretty hard to tell the difference.) 

He pushed himself out of the bed and began to walk towards the door when his hand shot up to press against his angrily throbbing skull and the room wobbled dangerously. 

Fuck, that was painful. He tried to fumble through his memories. Had Pidge finally snapped and floored him in a snap release of years of bad memes and ‘bad’ music? Or had it been the gentle Shiro, who was actually a murderer? That would be just his luck. 

Keith made his way down the unfamiliar hallway and moved towards a room which the muffled murmur of voices seemed to be coming from.   
 

"Shiro?"   
 

The man in question stood up from the sofa and said goodbye to the person whose voice trickled out of the phone pressed against his ear. Shiro's brow was furrowed in concern and he gave Keith a glance over.   
 

"Are you alright? You had a nasty bump to the head and possibly have a concussion. You shouldn't strain yourself."   
 

Keith waved away Shiro's concern with a tired smile.  

"I'm fine Shiro, don't worry about me. You've done more than enough, thank you for picking me up. If you know where my bike is I can drive myself home-" 

The bike. All at once the memories came flooding back. Shiro looked pained, as Keith took a sharp intake of breath.   
 

"I have to work today, but I've called a friend who says they live near you to take you home."   
 

Keith nodded mutely and took a seat in one of the chairs facing the window. The apartment seemed to be situated in a relatively quiet area but the gentle buzz of traffic suggested that it was close to the city centre.   
 

"I'll make some breakfast, do you like omelette?"   
 

Keith turned a grateful smile towards Shiro, who looked as if he had something else he wanted to say burning the tip of his tongue.   
 

"Sure, that would be amazing thanks."   
 

Keith passed the time by watching the cars drive by into the rain, one after the other. About fifteen minutes had passed, when Keith spotted a blue wreck of a vehicle park itself outside the apartment block, and the blurry figure of a man step out. 

The person attempted to get an inconceivable number of bags out of the boot of the car, but he obviously overestimated his strength and dropped them all on his foot. Keith couldn't hear the howl of pain that the man was probably making, but the frantic hopping gave away that he was in at least some amount of discomfort. Keith couldn't control his snort, which made Shiro look up from his omelette (Keith's had only lasted approximately thirty seconds).   
 

"Oh, that's your ride home." he said, totally neutral, and went back to his omelette. 

Keith raised an eyebrow at Shiro's unexpected callous streak, obviously, food was more important to the other man than friendship. 

"I'm going to go help him. Do you have a coat I could borrow?" 

Shiro looked surprised. 

"Oh no, I can do it, you're ill, just let me-" 

"No, it's alright, I'll do it."   
  


The rain was cold against Keith's skin when he ran out to help the man. He had his back turned, and his blue coat looked soaked through.   
 

"Hey, can I help you with any of that-?"   
 

The man turned and Keith's words simultaneously vanished from his lips.   
 

"You... what are you doing here?"   
 

The universe was rarely so lazy.   
 

The other man didn't seem to want to be as provocative as he had their previous meetings and instead continued to stare at Keith as if he was on the verge of some revelation. 

Keith wasn't sure if was the lighting that made Asshole's eyes shine like that, or made his tanned face seem to glow. 

 

"It's _you_... of course it's you, I should've guessed, your damn mullet-" 

 

Because then Keith understood. 

 

He stood with his arms limp by his side, one final shopping bag in danger of falling from his fingertips. His eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes seem to spark with something Keith didn't recognise. 

 

And his voice was exactly the same one that was imprinted in his fragile memories from the night before.  

 

"I should've known that you were the motorbike man, how do you get all this to fit in your helmet?" 

Lance's eyes drifted over Keith's face before ever so cautiously reaching up to pull a strand of Keith's hair. Keith couldn't help himself from wincing and Lance let go as if his fingertips had been burnt. 

"Dío, I'm sorry Keith, your head...Stupid, Stupid-" 

Keith lifted a hand to stop him. 

"It's okay Lance, I'm alright. Thank you, though, for driving all the way out here." 

Lance smiled his first smile. It was a soft twitch at the corner of his lips but it was a smile all the same.  

" If I had known _you_  were 'Keith', I would have run in the opposite direction, trust me. " 

He let a beat pass before letting out a huff of disbelief. 

"Man, this is so weird, I was so wired at the thought of meeting you and now it turns out I already have, what an anti-climax."  

It was only until Keith let out a breath of nervous laughter, and Lance joined him, that he realised the amount of tension there had been between them. Lance shivered in his thin blue jacket and Keith felt a pang of empathy. 

 

"It's still raining" 

Keith could see the rivulets running over Lance's lashes- could feel them on his own. But neither moved a breath. 

"I know" 

Lance raised a hand to the sky in wonder. He seemed so natural in the downpour like he was born to stand there in that very moment, with his dark hair plastered to his face and water streaming down his cheeks. The thread of sunlight poking from behind the clouds was mirrored in the iridescent pattern of drops on his skin. He was the vivid blue saturating this sepia photograph. He was electric. 

"I love the rain." 

"I hate it." 

Lance was smiling, it was a small, soft smile, crooked at the corner. Teasing. 

"I'd like to know why some day." 

Keith saw it for what it really was. A promise. A willingness to try this, to give up their destinies as ships in the night and anchor instead. And maybe, just maybe, something within Keith needed to give it a chance. He cleared his throat. 

"We've met before." 

"Ah no, I'm pretty sure we haven't, I'd definitely remember if we had. Nope, I'm certain this is the first time." 

"What? You literally just said-" 

Lance sighed in frustration. 

"Haven't you ever heard of a fresh start, idiot?" 

Keith's eyes widened. 

 

Ohhhhhh. 

 

Lance outstretched his hand. Keith took it gladly. Sure, they could play this game. 

"Hi there, my name is Lance Charles McClain and I live here in Cali with my parents, my three sisters and brother. I'm Cuban but we moved to America when I was born. I like to surf and play tennis but I also like video games and scary films and the occasional mullet. It nice to meet you." 

Keith felt a smile bubble onto his face. His heart felt warm despite the cold day. He was reminded of the ice breakers he had been subjected to throughout his school years and listed off the only things he would consider interesting about himself.

"Hi Lance, I'm Keith Kogane and I'm a transfer student from South Carolina, I've lived in America since I was five but I'm Japanese. I like fixing bikes and driving them. I like anything that gives an adrenaline rush so that includes theme parks and flying. My dream is to be an astronaut." 

Lance's eyebrow quirked and his eyes appeared to twinkle. 

"An astronaut?" 

"Yeah, I wanna-" 

"I'm sorry, I was under the impression you had to have a sense of humour to be an astronaut." 

Keith just stared. 

"What?" 

"Well you know, if you're up there in space with the same three other people then if you don't have a sense of humour they're going to be bored outta their minds. And it’s not like you can entertain them with – what was it you said you were listening to the other day, Linkin Park? Are you kidding me? Hot topic employee Numero Uno over here needs to get a time machine out of 2007." 

Keith rolled his eyes and shoved Lance softly, which only made Lance's smile widen. 

"Jerk." 

"You know it." 

 

Lance's smile dropped when he saw Keith's knees almost buckle and he grabbed Keith's waist to support him, abandoning the shopping bag. 

"I can't believe Shiro let you go outside with concussion, what kind of a Dad friend is he?" 

"Dad friend?" 

"What? Oh, never mind." 

Lance was warm against his side as they shuffled towards Shiro's door. 

"I'm fine really, you don't have to-" 

"Shut up Keith." 

 

 

......

 

Forty-five minutes later, in the warm embrace of Shiro’s sitting room, Keith was hyper-aware that he was being – mothered would be the only word to describe it. 

Allura had appeared seemingly from nowhere but Keith had a suspicion that she had emerged from Narnia after getting a quick touch up on princess dust through the wardrobe Shiro’s spare room – which would be one of the only credible explanations for why she would be in there (Keith couldn't believe Shiro had upped his game in such a short time). She and Shiro had taken it upon themselves to adopt Keith, and Lance looked like he was vaguely torn between feeling pity for Keith and being glad to escape their ‘love'. 

“Keith, are you sure you’re going to be okay without your bike? Can you get to work and college without it?” 

Keith tried to keep his smile bright and polite, although his head was pounding again and he really needed to go home. 

“I’m honestly fine but thank you for all your help Shiro, Allura, you’ve done enough.”   
 

Allura smiled at Keith with a radiance that was almost blinding.   
 

“I’m sure there’s a space for you at the bookshop if you need work, you’d only have to ask; and besides, you’ve done so much for Lance.”   
 

Keith attributed the red flush at the tips of Lance’s ears to the heat, the apartment was warm and he was used to his own personal refrigerator for a flat and nodded at Allura thoughtfully; he did need the cash.   
 

“That would be amazing if you could. Are you good friends with the owner?”   
 

Allura smiled at him knowingly and her gaze passed over Lance.   
 

“I’m good friends with them actually, I know they’re always in need of a good pair of hands…”   
 

Her statement only briefly washed over the utterly, _utterly_ oblivious Keith as she winked at him, but Lance’s complexion was not so fortunate. Turning his face away from Keith, Lance shot up from his chair and grabbed his wrist as Shiro shook with silent laughter.   
 

“Thanks guys, but Keith needs to get home and not be interrogated, he’s injured.”   
 

Keith smiled sheepishly at Shiro, who waved, and Allura who smiled, before being all but dragged out of Shiro’s house. He yelled a thank you one last time over his shoulder as the door closed behind him. 

Lance let go of his wrist as Keith got into the passenger seat, and placed his hand on the steering wheel. He let out a breath, debating on whether to push the subject or not.   
 

“Keith.”   
 

“Hmm?”   
 

“Are you- are you okay?"   
 

Keith frowned for a second, attempting to find a response but Lance carried on.   
 

"I mean I know I don't know you very well, none of us do, and vice versa but, we're friends right? This is a bonding moment, so you can tell us- I mean me, if you're okay...?   
 

He let his voice trail off and Keith knew what he was trying to ask, although he wasn't sure whether he wanted to answer.   
 

"Start the car Lance, I'm okay."   
 

Keith could tell that Lance was disappointed by his answer, but he started the car and took them out of the driveway. He pressed a series of buttons on the dashboard and grinned a shark's grin at Keith.   
 

"Alright let's start this morning with a smile Keithy boy, I expect you to know all the words." 

 

If Lance could sing, he did not sing, in fact, if one was to describe what it was exactly he was doing, they would have been hard-pressed to come up with a word for it, apart from the fact that it seemed to fit somewhere in the region of a complete antonym to singing.  

At the moment he was busy murdering  what Keith assumed was "Don't hurt yourself," (do not attempt to ask how he came across that particular information, it might not end well for you,) and as Lance 'sang', the other boy was trying not to cry; out of laughter or out of pain, he himself couldn't be sure. 

 

"...We just got to let it be. Let it be, let it be, let it be baby..." 

"No stop, please Lance, it _hurts_." 

Keith had his hands over his ears and Lance dramatically clutched at his chest in insult.  

"Beyoncé could never hurt, you monster!" 

"I would've thought it impossible, but you've somehow managed it." 

Lance's free hand gave him the finger, and then a particularly catchy part of the song came on and he began to dance. Keith shrieked as the car moved worryingly towards the centre of the road. 

"Put your hands on the wheel, are you trying to kill us?! Who let you pass your test?!" 

"Alright, alright relax man, I know what I'm doing." 

Keith snorted with derision, and as if to prove his point, a terrible crunching noise sounded from the back of the ancient vehicle.    
 

 _"What was_ _that?!_ _"_  

 

Keith couldn't help it if his voice rose a few octaves higher than usual, but Lance cackled and moved both his hands to the steering wheel, tapping gently in time to the beat, which made Keith feel somewhat safer, but he vowed to designate himself as the driver for any other planned road trips. They were driving past the coastal cliffs and Keith turned his head to watch a group of people catching waves. One of them looked like Keith would feel if he ever set foot on a board, wobbling at the knees and looking about as secure as Keith's stomach felt when Lance took a sharp corner. He spent approximately one second on the board before falling. Lance followed Keith's eye and smiled. 

 

"Are you a surfer, Keith?" 

Keith looked at him in confusion, his eyebrows furrowed. 

"No never, why?" 

"No reason." 

Lance smirked and then seamlessly changed the subject, which made Keith a little nervous. 

"So you work at the Shack usually? I assume they know you won't be in today." 

"It's fine, I can work-" 

Lance shot him a look that said very clearly "you're not going in today." 

Keith sighed and shook his head. 

"That was a good one. Very mature, shame it didn't look right on your face." 

"Thanks, I learn from the best, the best being that terrifying couple I have just dragged you away from. And I am mature! How dare you." 

They continued to bicker until Lance pulled up at the address Keith had given him.  

Looking up at his tiny apartment, Keith found himself unwilling to get out. Would they see each other again? Would Lance get bored now that he'd actually met him?  

He was saved by the slight tang of sadness he was beginning to feel, by the words suddenly rushing out of Lance's mouth. Lance who appeared to feel the same way. 

"Hey, you said you're a transfer student right? That means you don't know all the best places around here. You've got to see Windspeake Cove! It's a tragedy  how little you explore." 

"I've seen Windspeake Cove Lance."   
As Keith got out of the car he caught the twinkle in Lance's eye.  

"Not all of it, you haven't. I'll pick you up at two, bring your shorts and sunscreen."   
 

And before Keith could reply, Lance left him, gaping open-mouthed as the other man sped the tiny blue car into the distance. 

   
   
 

... 

   
   
 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry its been 84 years since the last update and that the formatting is so weird but I'm tired, this chapter was stressful.  
> Thank you so so much for your Kudos and Comments, they mean so much ily <3


	7. Iridescent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance knows that the best pick me up is a trip to the beach. Unfortunately, the activity he chooses is not one that Keith has a lot of experience with.
> 
>  
> 
> (Oh my god this chapter is ridiculous there is no plot I'm so sorry, I can't write.)

Chapter 7 

_Iridescent_ _ir·i·des·cent_ _[ˌ_ _irəˈdes_ _(ə)_ _nt_ _]_  

 _adjective: showing luminous colours that seem to change when seen from different angles_  

   
 

As soon as he stepped into the warm spray of the shower, Keith felt all the muscles in his shoulders and back relax as the tension drained out of them. He hesitated for a moment before closing his eyes and pushing his head under the stream, waiting for any tell-tale sparks of pain. Thankfully, all he felt was a mild throbbing, and he allowed his hands to thread through his hair and wash away the matted blood and grime of the night before. He'd slept for about six hours which was more than his usual routine, meaning that he felt fresher that morning. 

His thoughts turned towards Lance, and the expression on his face as he told Keith he would pick him up later. He wasn't used to the other man's attitudes, but he'd seen that face enough times in the mirror to know that Keith wasn't the only one who felt nervous about their situation. A part of him wanted to feel that Lance was staying in contact out of his own volition, rather than through a sense of pity and good-natured responsibility, but he knew that the latter was the case. Keith hated being pitied. 

A shrill ringing from outside the door shook him from his thoughts. He cursed darkly as he flicked the water off, grabbed a towel and attempted to search for some clean clothes around the apartment whilst waiting for a voicemail message. It turned out to be Alessandro who had phoned in order to assure Keith that he had sorted out the bike mess and could drop off what was left today if Keith still wanted the pieces. He asserted that they hadn't called the police because it was Keith's problem, and that they had given Keith's shift to someone else for this evening. Keith almost rolled his eyes at Alessandro's tactlessness but didn't have the energy to be offended as he texted back an affirmative message. Thankfully he would have the pieces of his bike to try and fix, it would keep Jamie off his mind for hopefully at least a little while.  And even if the extra parts would probably be more expensive than the bike originally cost, the sentimental value and the satisfaction he found in piecing together his pride and joy from scratch would mostly make up for the huge chunk it would take out of his bank account. He just might have to learn to love pot noodles and shorter showers a bit more than he already did to make up for it. 

True to his word, Alessandro brought back the motorcycle in all its pathetic glory. Keith found a red bandana under a cushion on the sofa when he was looking for an Allen key and decided that the day was hot enough to warrant a need for something to tie his hair back.  

There was a garage that the occupants of the apartment shared, but the only other people who lived in the building were an old couple who didn't drive and a middle-aged writer who used it as her holiday retreat, meaning that Keith had the space to himself to work on his bike.  

He checked through the damage and decided that it would take several weeks of work to get it operational, but it wasn't a lost cause. The fire hadn't reached the fuel tank as it had been placed at the bottom of the pyre, and the rain had quenched it before it could do too much damage, meaning that the leather seating and a few other crucial parts would need to be replaced or fixed, but it wasn't impossible. 

Keith worked until the sun was in the middle of the sky, stopping only to grab a can of soda from the mini-fridge he kept in the garage now and again. He had completed most of his assignments due anytime soon due to his lack of a social life, and planned to finish the last after his 'trip out' with Lance, so he let himself slip into the quiet, simple enjoyment that came with doing something he loved.  

 It was his whistling and the heavy clunk of metal that allowed Lance to find him when he eventually arrived. Keith had removed his shirt at some point in discomfort when the black cotton absorbed too many of the sun's rays, and grease and oil stained his bare torso and arms. Lance seemed content to watch him work and leant against the wall, and Keith was so engrossed in his work that he didn't notice him for almost five minutes, before Lance coughed gently and he jumped slightly, the bright tune dying on his lips. 

With folded arms and a smirk, Lance opened his mouth to say something but stilled as his gaze dropped imperceptibly. He swallowed lightly and focused his attention on Keith's hands instead, and the oil cloth in them, before gesturing vaguely at him. 

"What are you doing, it looks hot-" 

Lance's eyes widened as he choked over his words and tried to fix his sentence; hands flapping slightly. 

"I mean you look- It looks hard. Work! Hard work that is! Very hard work." 

Lance closed his eyes for a brief second and almost groaned at his incompetence as his voice trailed off, but Keith only furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, not understanding Lance's panic. 

"I'll just clean up here, then we can go, what did you say I'd need?" 

"Beach gear, e.g sunglasses, shorts, you know the whole shebang." 

Lance grinned as Keith shook his head in disbelief. 

"I can't believe you're actually dragging me to the beach." 

Lance stepped forward to loop an arm around Keith's shoulder and smile widely at him. 

"You agreed to this, Mullet, no backing out now." 

"I don't go back on my word, I said I'd go, didn't I?" 

Keith looked disgruntled as he disentangled himself from Lance's arm and shooed him out of the garage so that he could lock up.  

Lance followed Keith upstairs to his apartment and leant against the doorframe with the smile still playing around the corner of his lips as he watched Keith pack. When Keith had moved into the bedroom to find a pair of trunks and possibly some sun cream if he was lucky, Lance stuck his head around the door, there was laughter in his voice. 

"You stick to your word huh? I'm going to hold you to that." 

Keith didn't catch the warning signs in his voice until he reached the blue car outside and saw the two objects strapped to the roof and blanched. 

"No, no fucking way. I am never getting on that thing, you can't make me." 

Evil humour danced in Lance's eyes as Keith turned the deadliest stare he could muster at the taller man. 

Lance couldn't hold in his laughter and when Keith slammed the door as hard as he could when he got into the car, he mimicked Keith's words in a high falsetto as he sat down. 

 _"I don't go back on my word, I said I'd go, didn't I?"_  

"Shut up, I hate you." 

Lance hummed as he started the car. 

"If you enjoy it, you're buying me ice cream." 

"Deal. There is no way I will." 

Lance winked at him and Keith felt some of his apprehension leave him. 

"Get ready to _eat_ those words of yours man." 

Keith rolled his eyes and focused his attention out the window, but he couldn't help a brief twitch of a smile steal its way into the corner of his lips. 

   
 

...... 

   
 

They weren't even at the water's edge and Keith was already intensely regretting his life choices. 

"Lance!" 

He screamed over the wind and the tourists in a futile attempt to make Lance slow down. The board was heavy under his arm and he hadn't had the forethought to wrap the black piece of fabric around his wrist or ankle when Lance had given him the board when they had both gotten changed in the public toilets, but he blamed the fact that Lance was only half-wearing an honest to god _wetsuit_ for distracting him. 

The board wasn't too heavy, per se, but it was awkward, and Keith spent the majority of the time on the way down the cliff path trying to adjust his grip so that the end wouldn't drag in the sand. He got so frustrated that he didn't spot Lance's change in direction as he moved not towards the water's edge, where the waves were mild and looked perfect for beginners, but towards the rocks at the end of the cove. Keith attempted to run to catch up, but he broke it off when he dropped the board for the fourth time that day. Lance turned back to see why Keith still hadn't caught up with him and cupped his mouth to shout with his free hand as he jogged backwards briefly. 

"Use your arm muscles, Keith, I know you've got them, I can see them." 

"I'm going to use these arm muscles to pick up this board and hit you with it." 

"I'd like to see you try!" 

Fucking hell, this better be worth it. His toe throbbed where the edge of the board had landed, but he gritted his teeth, grabbed a knuckle-whitening hold on the board, and ran after Lance. 

The other man was standing by the entrance to some sort of tunnel in the rocks, and when he saw Keith run up to him, his tenacious grin turned crooked. He motioned for Keith to follow, and ducked in order to fit through the tunnel.  

Keith hesitated for half a second as he looked for a way to easily fit his board through, but he soon found that the tunnel made up for its lack of height in width.  

Keith paused for a moment before looking behind him. A large ridge of boulders hid the entrance from anyone who wasn't aware the tunnel existed. He called to Lance up ahead. 

"How many people know about this?" 

Lance's reply lacked a similar echo to Keith's voice, suggesting that the end of the tunnel was ahead.  

"The special few." 

When Keith emerged, he intended to snap at Lance for being so vague and ominous, but he forgot his words when surveyed the landscape around him. 

They had found themselves in a secluded cove that looked completely untouched by human hand. The sand was soft and warm between Keith's toes and there wasn't a patch spoiled by areas that had obviously been used for sandcastles or umbrellas or footprints that weren't his own or Lance's. The sky was a striking blue that Keith saw reflected in Lance's smiling eyes, and the waves somehow seemed to pound the shore with a higher intensity than the ones on the main beach. Keith couldn't lie to himself, it was a beautiful place. 

"How did you even find this place?" 

Lance tapped the bridge of his nose. 

"Can't give all my methods away just like that, can I? Now, how many seconds do you reckon you'll stay upright? Two? One? Zero?" 

Keith curved his lips into a sneer. 

"Is that a challenge, McClain?" 

"If it was a challenge, I would believe there was even a possibility that you had a chance."   
 

Keith saw red.   
 

"Bring it on, these waves are mine." 

As he strode confidently towards the water's edge, Lance dropped his bag and followed, biting his lip to prevent laughter from escaping, and watching with soft features as Keith's feet touched the white spray ahead of him. 

"He doesn't even know how to get on the board." 

Lance took his own board in his hands and gave himself up to the feel of the ocean. The waves were a welcome chill against his skin and he pressed his body flat against the length of the board as he paddled out further. He sat up and allowed the water to buffet him closer to where Keith was attempting to stay on the board without sliding back into the water. He wasn't doing a very good job, and his hair was slicked to the side of his head in show of the many times he had fallen in. The look of pure concentration on his face was the only thing that stopped Lance from giving up and helping him. Keith had an iron grip on the sides of the board and used his strength to lift himself up in half a press up, half a pull-up. Once he had both legs on the board, he shot a smug smile at Lance, who rolled his eyes.  

"¡Dale! Time to catch some of these babies."  

Lance took pity on Keith as an expression of panic flashed over his face.  

"Stand up." 

He knelt on his own board, grabbed both of Keith's hands and slowly pulled both of them upright. 

"Keep your weight central, your feet shoulder width apart and perpendicular to the board.  Bend your knees a little, no inwards- that's it. 

Relax Keith, and let go…"  

Keith attempted to follow his instructions, but when Lance briefly turned his head to check where the next wave was, Keith's grip on his hands tightened and he leant dangerously forward.  

"Just relax, don't tense up. Keep your head up and look straight. Don't fight the ocean, let it take you where you want to go." 

Keith's face was twisted with the effort of trying to balance as the smaller waves buffeted against his board. He seemed to focus on the shark's tooth necklace that rested on Lance's chest and let out a deep breath, before taking his hands out of Lance's grip.  

"I'm good, let's go." 

He looked ridiculous, he had copied Lance's foot position to a T, but the rigid tension in his shoulders and in his hips would do horrors for his balance.  

"Relax, Keith!" 

Lance paddled into deeper water to watch as the wave hit Keith from behind. He obviously wasn't expecting it and his arms flailed wildly as he tried, and failed to stay upright.  Lance saw that at some point he had tied the leash to his ankle, which was the only thing that kept him from losing his board completely as he wiped out. Lance had snapped into the perfect surfer's stance as soon as he felt the wave hit the tail of his board, and he carved his way through the foam towards Keith.  

Lance's laughter filled the bright air over the crashing of the waves as Keith's head broke the surface.  His fingertips desperately searched for the board and he pulled himself up onto the deck; gasping and coughing up sea water.  

Lance was already paddling out to catch another wave, so Keith joined him; trying to emulate the powerful arm strokes that propelled him so easily through the water. 

His second attempt did not fare any better, and neither did his third, but on the fourth, he managed to pop up from his stomach into a crouch, he tipped into the water when he attempted to straighten his legs a little, but he was determined to get this right. 

Lance came by with dubiously helpful tips now and again, as he coasted across the waves like he belonged there.  

"You wanna try and go from that press up position into the crouch in one move, like that."  

He snapped his fingers to demonstrate as he sat on his own board watching. The waves had been gradually getting flatter and Keith was getting the feel of it more. He could now tell the pinpoint moment to 'pop up' as Lance called it, and had even managed to stay standing for about five seconds for all of Lance's jibes. But as he caught his breath for a moment he found he was content to watch Lance from a shallower, flatter area of water. 

The sun was a balmy heat against his bare shoulders and it burnished Lance's hair and skin with a bronze glow. Every time the other man got close enough to him, Keith studied his face. The peace in his expression reminded him of the feeling he got when he was working with his bike. It was a slow, soothing sort of happiness, and it warmed Keith down to his bones to see it. To realise that he was _allowed_ to see it.  

When he caught each wave, Keith's gaze was drawn to his hips. His body moved fluidly; in tune with the ocean. He doesn't fight it, it is as much a part of him as his tanned skin, soft hair, blue smiling eyes, his loud laughter and those godforsaken smirks that steal Keith's breath from his lungs every single time they dance across his lips. 

At one point, Lance saw Keith wasn't doing anything and asked to switch boards with him, seeing as Keith's was a lot smaller and a different shape. 

Lance rode the final wave out to the shoreline and the white spray chased his toes as he ran up the beach. He placed the board down on a dry area of sand, a good way out from the tide. When he was sure that the board was secure, he turned and headed towards the shore once more. Keith paddled to meet him as he swam out.  

The waves were too flat to be any good now, but it didn't  matter. Lance motioned to Keith to move over and Keith did so gingerly. He waited until Lance was about to push himself up onto the board before grabbing on to his arm and helping lift him out of the water.  

"Thanks." 

"Don't mention it." 

When Lance was safely on the board he focused his gaze on their knees which were pressed together, and the swirling currents that whirled around them. 

They sat in comfortable silence for a weightless moment, before Lance started to chuckle quietly. He steadily grew louder and when Keith looked up to see that there were actual tears in his eyes he huffed out an exasperated "What? What's so funny?" 

Lance's reply was punctuated by wheezes of laughter and he wiped his eyes. 

"Your board- this one- no beginner ever learns on these, I don't even use it, oh my god you couldn't even turn." 

Keith scowled at his hands but looked up as Lance continued. 

"I'll get you a proper board next time. That's if you want there to be a next time?" 

As Lance's voice lifted into a question at the end of his sentence, Keith found his head nodding automatically. Lance's smile was like the sun this close. 

"Well, I might as well show you the trick to this board, seeing as I ruined your first lesson." 

His voice was quiet as he took Keith's palms in his own and slowly got to his feet once more. Keith allowed himself to be dragged up with him, but when the board seemed to sway dangerously close to a tipping point, he wrenched his hand out of Lance's and grabbed the other man's hip for support instead. A flustered pink stained his cheekbones but he wouldn't give up his dignity for the six-hundredth time that day so easily by falling in. 

They stood in a tableau of a waltz. Lance hadn't let go of his left hand and there wasn't enough space on the board to put a gap between their chests. Lance's necklace was a cool pressure against Keith's skin.  

Keith knew that he had no idea what he would do if they continued this for long, so he stuttered out a question. 

"What did you want to show me?" 

Lance's expression said that he was far away but Keith's voice drew him back to focus, startled. 

"So you wanna lower your hips, like this, to get a low centre of gravity, and put your feet a little closer together." 

He held Keith's shoulders as he adjusted his position slightly, then curled his finger underneath his chin to turn his head to face forward. 

"Keep your head up, and over your body, not leaning out, otherwise you'll shift your centre of gravity over the board and tip." 

Keith hummed. Physics was something he understood, and this board was about ten times more forgiving than the other already. 

"You've relaxed a lot more since you've first started, that's good. So if you want to control the board, you've got to use these." 

He tapped Keith's hips lightly. 

"These give you power, not your arms. When you're carving, you have to take long sweeping turns or you'll fall ..." 

Keith had turned his head back to look at him and suddenly their faces were only inches apart. Keith focused on Lance's nose and tried very hard to keep breathing. There was a freckle on the side of it, and it took him all of his willpower to concentrate fully on that freckle instead of the hand on his hips and the fact that Lance smelled like sea salt and rain and something that Keith would swear was mint chocolate. 

But the moment was brief. Lance had forgotten everything he was saying and subconsciously leant forward to catch Keith's gaze. Keith's eyes lingered on lips for longer than they should have and he panicked, jumping slightly. 

That was all it took for the board to tip. 

Lance automatically placed a hand on Keith's back to catch him, but it didn't matter. They were both going in the water. 

They broke the surface at the same time, heaving and coughing water out of their lungs. Lance was the first one to start laughing, but the hysterical edge to it meant that Keith wasn't too long in joining him. 

"There aren't even any waves anymore Keith!" 

"Time to get out?" 

"Probably for the best."   
 

The sand was soft and golden under his feet, as Keith found himself looking at the sky. Lance had taken a rucksack with them with towels and a spare change of clothes. He called to Keith to get his attention. 

"Keith, turn around so that I can change out of my wetsuit, my assets have to be _earned_." 

Before he turned dutifully, Keith observed that the red stain across his cheekbones and at the tips of his ears had gotten worse throughout the day, he must have forgotten to put on sunscreen.  

The car journey home was pleasant. Keith wasn't a conversationalist at heart, but he discovered that he didn't need to be, Lance talked enough for the both of them, with Keith chiming in now and again.  

Keith's house came too soon, and as they pulled up to the driveway Lance flashed a grin at him.  

"Glad you enjoyed it, thanks for the mint chocolate chip double cone by the way." 

Keith punched his arm and shook his head to try and hide the smile that had forced his way onto his face as he got out of the car. 

"See you later, Asshole." 

Lance saluted as the car left the driveway and Keith watched until the blue car had disappeared over the horizon before going inside. His thoughts were full of Lance but he didn't understand them, so he chalked them up to an immense feeling of gratitude, if not sure whether that was the right conclusion. 

 

In regards to Lance? Keith was completely and utterly fucked, of course. The only problem was, he just didn't know it yet. 

 

   
 

....... 

 

   
 

Pidge was always known for their entrance, and today they didn't disappoint as they opened the door to Café Alto and made their way towards the usual table, where presently Hunk sat, nursing a cup of hazelnut coffee. 

"God, why are all teenagers so fucking horny all the time I swear to god. " 

"I think it's mating season." 

"Does that even exist for humans?" 

"I have no idea you'll have to google it." 

Pidge sat down and waved at Shiro who had noticed their arrival and was already making their usual order.  

"So Hunk, how's your engineering degree going?" 

A fond but exasperated look appears on his face when he thinks of his course. 

"It's amazing, difficult but amazing, how is your transfer student friend? From South Carolina was it? That's a long way to go." 

Pidge matched Hunk's expression exactly. 

"He's good, getting on well at college I think - wow, I sound like his mother. I think the only problem is that every time he meets someone he likes he complains to me about them, I've been getting texts all this week about how 'irritating' this guy is. Speaking of sexually frustrated idiots, has Lance managed to seduce the book guy yet?" 

Hunk's eyes sparkled. News of the mysterious 'book guy' had spread around the staff of Paladin books. When Shiro had first come in confused and slightly concerned about the guy who had vaguely threatened him into giving Lance his number, it had been the most interesting thing to happen for weeks. But now Hunk had met him and so apparently had Allura, so he had become tangible. 

"You know I met him once, he rocks the whole red leather jacket, wacky vibe." 

Pidge's eyes were stormy beneath their glasses.  

"Am I the only one who hasn't met him yet then? This isn't fair, I'm going to hack into your CCTV." 

An idea surfaced in Hunk's mind and he smiled. 

"Hey, you know the annual barbeque next week for the store's anniversary..." 

"Yes...?" 

"Why don't we get Lance to invite the guy! And you can bring transfer kid along so that if he messes up with crazy motorbike man then he can make another friend. You said he doesn't get out much?" 

"Are you attempting to matchmake, my friend? It is a good idea but I will not submit my poor, sweet, cinnamon roll of a transfer student to Lance, I don't want to break him Hunk, he's fragile." 

Pidge's phone buzzed with a message and they rolled their eyes when they saw the sender name. 

"Speak of the devil." 

2:05  

Keith:  

[Can you come fix my internet again, I think I accidentally kicked the router and now I don't know where all the funny wires go.] 

Pidge's glasses glinted as they dropped the phone back onto the table a little violently. 

"What time do you want him? 

   
 

…..... 

   
 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dale - Come on, hurry up (in this context)  
>  ^---- adding to that, I know absolutely nothing about anything in this fic, be it surfing, America or Cuban Spanish so if you see any discrepancies don't hesitate to let me know.
> 
> If you wanna say hi (or yell, yelling is okay), my tumblr is yolkergame.tumblr.com. Thank you for all your kudos and kind comments, have a great day and I'm so sorry about the mess you've somehow found yourself reading! <3


	8. Incandescence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for a Summer Barbecue! Plenty of great food, great puns and the shadowy cloud of future angst... maybe (?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unedited and AO3 is a bitch with the formatting so I apologise for any weirdness, (that isn't my writing) and I'll fix it at some point.

Chapter 8  
  
_Incandescence [ˌinkənˈdesns, ˌiNGkənˈdesns]_  
_noun: emitting light as a result of being heated_  
  
  
  
**_“VOLTRON: By Lance_** _And Keith_  
Chapter 11

_"_

_Hot stripes of white light flashed at the edges of Akira's vision, and it took all of his focus not to be completely dazzled by them. His hands thrust the Bayard blindly ahead of him, trying to find the source of the gunfire and, if he was lucky, the arm that was attached to it. He just hoped he wouldn't accidentally hit one of his friends first._

_A light "Akira!" and a friendly squeeze to his shoulder told him that Lance had found his way to his side once more. Something akin to relief curled in his stomach as Lance began to shoot from his position against Akira's back. They had been in this situation a hundred times before, it wasn't a big deal. They would save the Balmera and walk out easy as can be._

_Well, they had simulated this a hundred times before._

_A crackle in both of their helmets that Akira identified as Sven's voice caused Akira and Lance to simultaneously tap at them with one hand to try and get a better signal._

_"Sven? Can you hear_ us _Sven?"_

_Lance made brief panicked eye contact as one Galran warrior moved forward particularly quickly. With a blow to the head, Akita dispatched it. Sven didn't reply for nearly a full minute, and when he did reply, it didn't make them feel any better._

  
_"We... communications lost...Pidge... to Allura... don't know...stuck behind this..."_

_"There must be something about the Balmeran crystals that blocks communications, we're going to have to find our own way out."_

  
_Lance considered the options. More and more Galran troops appeared to be landing around them, and the two of them couldn't hold the swathes of enemy off for long. The only way he could think of to escape was to somehow lose the fighters in order to get through those tunnels at the back of the quarry and run all the way to Blue and Akira's lion._  
_Three soldiers had made their way up a rut and were heading straight towards them. They had been pushed towards the cavern wall and now they had their backs to it._  
_With a silent word of agreement, Lance focused on the two on the left-hand side whilst Akira took the one on the right._

 _Lance aimed a stream of fire at the first, and in no time at all, it was down. The second seemed to realise the danger it was in and ducked behind a boulder, returning the fire in short rapid bursts._  
_Akira waited as Lance slowed the third soldier down by shooting its shoulder, it staggered and dropped its weapon slightly, which allowed Akira to run forward and strike the weapon out of his hands with the butt of his bayard. He pivoted to bring his sword back and aimed a cobra-quick right hook to the jaw. Akira chuckled to himself in the rare moment of peace, and turned to face the blue paladin._

 _“_ Hey _you know what Lance? We are a good tea-“_

_Akira could pinpoint the exact moment it went wrong._

  
_Somehow it happened too quickly for Akira to see it, but Lance was fast. The object had landed directly at Akira's feet. It glinted, metallic and dangerous in the light of the alien sun. In a heartbeat, Akira recognised it for what it was and he stopped breathing. His reactions couldn’t save him now._

_But Lance did._

_He had abandoned his soldier and violently shoved Akira off a ledge within the space of a second. The look Akira briefly glimpsed in his eyes would haunt his nights for years to come._  
_It was over in a flash of white light and the scream of a name."_

…..

“Lance, if you look at the door one more time I’m going to have to call Keith and tell him the barbecue’s cancelled.”

Lance, startled, snapped his head back to face Hunk and glared.

“I’m worried he's got lost is all.”

The look Hunk gave him suggested that he didn't believe him in the slightest.  
  
"He's visited this shop practically every day for the last three weeks, not to mention you sent that incredibly long-winded and unnecessary message with directions 'just in case' he somehow got lost on the way."  
  
Lance scowled at his shoes as Hunk's lips twitched into a knowing smile.  
  
"Okay, but you didn't have to add the air quotes, I know when I'm being condescended to fine without them, thank you.”

He turned and walked away towards Shiro and the others, ears and cheeks a tangible angry pink.

“Lance, wait I didn't mean-”

 

…...  
  
_“_

_Akira felt hollow._

_He didn't want to know what he would find when he climbed back up the rocks to where Lance had stood, only half a minute before. He had damaged his shoulder in the fall but panic had dulled the ache and if he was limping because of shrapnel in his leg, it was the last thing on his mind. Lance's body lay motionless on the rocky shelf. It had been thrown a few metres across the dusty ground and lay like a broken puppet with its strings cut._

_When Akira reached him, instincts kicked in and he felt his hand grab a limp wrist as he dropped his ear to Lance's still chest. Movement. Brief, but certainly there; a soft pulse in the wrist, a slight puff of air at his cheek. Alive, thank god._

_"Lance, Lance can you hear me? Lance?"_

  
_He moved his arm underneath Lance's head as a support and Lance's breathing appeared to strengthen. Akira's eyes swept over the body in his arms, the suit he wore was damaged; with tears and burn holes that exposed injuries he wasn't qualified - or mentally ready to deal with._

  
_"Lance?"_

_The cough that came in reply was pathetic, but it was enough to spring the wave of acute relief that swept over him. Lance's eyes opened slowly._

_"Akira?"_

_His voice was quiet, ragged with dust and sand and pain._

  
_“You can't get out of fighting with me that easily."_

  
_Lance's wry chuckle in response turned into a hacking cough and Akira felt his arms tighten around the blue paladin._

  
_"Listen...I'm not going to be any use to you like this, I'm just.... a burden. If you leave me here it will be easy for you to get out. One paladin is easy to replace, two -"_

  
_Akira found himself gently resting his forehead against the other's in order to stop whatever he was babbling about. He obviously didn't know what he was saying._

  
_"Shut up."_

  
_"What-?"_

  
_"I said shut your face. I'm not going to leave you to die just because you've got a few scratches. I've managed to carry your incompetent ass through every other bullshit mission, why should this time be any different? Can't have you ruining my reputation like that."_

  
_Akira leant back and was about to stand when he caught the look of fear in Lance's eyes directed at something over his shoulder..._  
_Even in the state he was in, Lance was quicker. He had managed to sit up, grab his Bayard and shoot the last Galran soldier that had been sneaking up behind them both._  
_Akira's lips twitched into a smile that dropped almost immediately in response to Lance's gasp of pain from the exertion._

_"See, not a burden. "_

_Lance dropped back down with a sigh. His eyes were beginning to roll shut._

_"Your fault... didn't follow mission protocol. You should check for aggressors before you deal with an injured team member..."_

  
_Akira gently squeezed Lance's arm to keep him from dropping off._

_"Hey, hey stay with me. And since when have I been the kind of guy to follow the rules? I don't have any med-gel with me so we're going to get you to Red, can you walk?"_

  
_Lance mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, and Akira took that as a sign to try and gently lift him over his shoulder, but Lance grabbed his arm to stop him._

_"Lance you're going to have to work with me here."_

  
_"I'm suffering the extreme loss of my dignity here, you've gotta cut me some slack. And you can't use your Bayard in this situation, if any Galra gets too close to us…_

  
_He coughed again, and it wracked his entire body._

  
_"...we're done_ for, _before your short arms can even reach them. You're gonna have to... use mine."_

_"Lance it won't work-"_

  
_"Blue, can you do this for me?"_

  
_Lance had closed his eyes and clung on to his Bayard, Akira reasoned that he had hit his head pretty hard._

  
_"No, Lance stop-"_

  
_"Can you let Akira use the Bayard, just this once. I want his clumsy hands on my property less than you do but this is an emergency."_

  
_His eyes snapped open and settled on Akira. With a heavy stare, he let a moment pass before he pressed the Bayard into Akira's hands._

  
_"Take it."_

  
_The words 'I can't' were ripe on his lips, but he took the Bayard without argument. It buzzed to life in his hand, and he could feel the same strange alien energy that his own Bayard was shrouded in, but Lance's was cooler and brought a vague sense of calm over him. He tried to activate it like he would his own, and the weapon transformed into its usual shape. He would have to get used to its strange weight, and his sense of accuracy was appalling, but it was a lot more useful long range than his sword. He opened his mouth to thank him, but Lance wouldn't have it, quieting him with a hand to the mouth._

 _"Just save my ass alright,  the world isn't ready to lose this beauty yet."_  
  
…….

“Hey Keith! Glad to see you could make it.”

Pidge had been waiting by the doorway to the shop playing a- pretty violent game on their phone by the looks of it, but their head snapped up when they heard his footsteps.  

Pidge guided him to the back door of the bookshop, it was looking a little less dusty than usual but Keith could still see the tell-tale trail of footsteps leading to the door in the (still very) musty carpet which suggested that more people were invited to this barbecue than Pidge had suggested in their phone call. Oh hell. Social interaction. Although he supposed that it made sense if Pidge was allowed to bring friends, they must have known Hunk or someone from college. Huh, what a small world.

The door led to a small corridor which had three doors and a rickety wooden staircase leading to the upper floor of the shop, Pidge took the door to the right which opened out onto a cosy, enclosed garden where there was a small conglomeration of people surrounding a barbecue. Keith could vaguely recognise some of the people there, likely from his college classes, but the others were complete strangers. They all seemed to be about student age. If there was anything more awkward than social events with people he didn't know all that well, he hadn't found it yet. He had already accepted the fact that he would have to follow Pidge around for the whole thing and maybe the others if they showed up. Allura would be here, wouldn’t she? A goddess would have to save a poor boy from the perils of conversation for sure, it was written in the moral code of Good People.

In attempting to find his friend he scanned the garden until his eyes landed on someone familiar. But that familiar face belonged to the entirely unexpected older man with a bright red moustache beginning to turn around to greet them...Wait...

“Keith, I know you've met Allura, but this is Coran."  
  
The man smiled and pulled a little at his ridiculous moustache.

“How’s that illustrious career working out for you kiddo? ”

Keith gaped for a moment at the older man, and he attempted to brush off the unsettling sense that somehow he had found himself in the Matrix. Coincidences are spooky things.

“Hi Professor - oh I mean Coran-”

Holy shit that felt wrong.

“-So… What brings you to California? I had the impression that you had a pretty good spot in South Carolina?”

  
The others looked back and forth in interest as Coran let out a hearty laugh. Allura winked at Keith.

“It looks like you’ve already had some experience of his literary wisdom then, I snatched him out of retirement for my publishing house and having a celebrated author and lecturer on the team has really brought in the sales.”

Coran attempted to appear mock horrified by that.

“I was not in retirement how dare you call me old! I am barely two decapheebs older than you!.”

Allura rolled her eyes and stage whispered behind her hand to Keith.

“He likes to think that he’s the new Caroll by making up words, I’ve tried to tell him that neologism in conversation doesn’t make you sound intelligent it makes you sound mad, but he doesn’t seem to take the hint.”

“Allura you wound me! Don’t listen to her Keith, you’re perfectly aware of my genius, after all, you were one of my best students until you left to study signs or something.”

“Do you mean science?” 

Coran’s face contorted as if he had just tasted something particularly horrifying.

“Sounds painful.”

Pidge, to the side of the conversation meanwhile, had eyebrows almost in their hairline as they watched Keith thoughtfully.

“You write?”

Keith let out a brief startled laugh that was probably loud enough to get the attention of those standing by the barbecue a few metres away.

“No, that was just at college to get credits.”

“Huh, I guess that makes sense, I wouldn’t have pegged you as an arts and humanities kind of kid.”

“That would be your influence from an early age Pidge, you corrupted me.”

Coran and Allura shared a look.

“So Pidge, how did you get to know Keith ?”

Before they could answer a cacophony of noise seemed to emanate from the barbecue. A dull scraping sound then several loud pops later and Shiro was screaming in that way Shiro does which is more of a loud disappointed scold.

“I said it’s FINE Lance, I said don’t TOUCH it Lance, and what do you do? You go over there, while I’m having a conversation with- oh you know what? Never mind, just- just go talk to someone, I’ll do it.”

Lance was here?

Sure enough, Keith’s gaze found Lance across the garden looking guilty and holding half a metal spatula like he’d tried to fish something from inside the grill and dropped the other half in it.

It was when both Keith and Pidge simultaneously rolled their eyes and muttered “idiot” in the sort of fond exasperation that flagged a warning signal in Keith's brain, but he wasn't able to think any further on that particular idea as Hunk took that opportunity to say hello.

“Oh hi Keith, Pidge!”

“Hi Hunk, hey wait a minute, you know Keith?”

Hunk’s expression grew uncertain for a moment as his gaze alternated between Pidge and Keith.

“Well sure I do, I see him pretty much every time I'm on shift, the question is, how do you know him?”

“I've told you about him several times, and what do you mean when you’re on shift?”

“At the bookshop, you know about all of this we literally had a conversation.”

The gears behind Pidge’s eyes were almost visible as they considered Keith, who was standing as confused as anyone.

"This is Keith,” they said slowly.

“...all the way from down South - " they stopped and pointed to Keith’s jacket.

They pointed to Keith’s jacket.

“Wait... _That’s_ Lance’s crazy motorcycle man?!”

“What, you mean…”

Understanding and shock passed behind Hunk’s eyes.

" _That's_ Transfer Student?"

Keith was not enjoying being left out of a conversation that centred around him.

" Hey, you know I would really appreciate it if you didn't call me ‘that’, I do have a name you know."

Pidge gazed at him in wonder.

"And that name is motherfucking Keith, I can't believe it man, it's nice to properly meet you at last, Casablanca."

"Pidge you've known me for five years, Casa-who now?"

"Don't look so concerned for my health bucko, I was making a joke," they made a whooshing action over their head along with the sound effects at Hunk, who was busy trying hard not to giggle.

“PIDGE.”

Shiro’s loud voice from the centre of the garden near the barbecue made Keith turn his head to look. Poor man, no doubt being pretty much the responsible figure out of this group of people took its toll.

Shiro held up the first burger and waved it at Pidge to signalise that it was ready and that they should come and get it. Lance caught Keith’s eye over the crowd around the barbecue with an empty plate in one hand, and mouthed "blatant favouritism."

He walked over to their group and handed a burger over to Keith.

“Hey Keith, I thought you might be hungry, and you absolutely can’t miss out on these, Hunk did the seasoning.”

Hunk laughed and scratched at the back of his neck.

“Nah, you haven’t tasted it yet, and Shiro did the cooking.”

Lance turned to look at Hunk, burger poised at his lips.

“The man put some meat on a grill and then flipped it over a couple of times, I think we know who the real MVP is here, Keith go on try it, you’ll love it.”

Keith picked up the burger and took a bite, they hadn’t been exaggerating, it tasted divine, with a hint of spice and a tang of something citrus.

Pidge, at the edge of the conversation and about to walk over to the barbecue, watched Keith laugh brightly at Lance who was currently making fairly obscene moaning noises audible from ten feet away as he bit into his own burger, and fake retched. Neither of them noticed.

"Mmmm oh my god Hunk these are so good, can you marry me so that I'm able to experience the wonders of your cooking every day, please."

"I lived with you for two years, you've already had that experience, and to be honest, I felt like I was the only one bringing something to our relationship."

"Cold, Hunk, so cold. Anyway, don't tell me you missed my singing in the shower? No one can resist my sweet voice for long."

"No, I don't miss my earplugs thanks."

"This man does not appreciate true art, I'm sure Keith appreciates beauty. Hunk I have replaced you.“

"I think you mean he appreciates the boot-"

"Pidge, manners!"

Pidge started, slightly shocked, as Shiro walked past with another bag of coal for the barbecue whilst Lance snickered.

"Shiro sure has high expectations for his prodigy child."

Hunk mentioned something about welcoming a group of his classmates that had just shown up, Keith turned to Lance. Two can play at this game.

"So, you know Pidge ?"

"Yah they've been around forever, I think we first properly met them when they were horrified to learn that we didn't have a digital book categorising system and wouldn't leave until I promised, with a hand on my heart, that we'd look into it. Then Shiro called them a 'nice girl’  this one time and they slapped him, I think Pidge has been his favourite ever since. So how did you know them?"

“That is not true! Everyone knows Allura is the favourite! I bet even Keith knows.”

" I guess you could say we are childhood friends? Like we grew up together back in Palmetto and when Matt and Pidge moved to California, they suggested I went too but it’s taken me a while to-”

Pidge butted into their conversation very loudly

  
“He followed me, I didn’t follow him.”

Keith furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“I know Pidge, that’s what I just said.”

They beamed at him.

“Just making sure.”

“Go get your burger, Pidge, it’ll be cold by now.”

“Ugh fine. I still can’t believe you’re Lance’s crazy motorbike man, I honestly didn’t think you had it in you. ”

“He’s not my...!”

“I’m not _his_ … or crazy!”

“Sure, whatever.”

As Pidge walked off to grab their burger, Keith turned to glare at Lance.

“What do they mean, ‘crazy motorbike man’? How did your friends come to talk with my friends about me and describe me as a crazy motorbike man?”

Lance moved a step backwards and shook his head frantically. There was still some sunburn from the beach trip across his cheekbones and the tips of his ears.

“That wasn’t me! It must’ve been Shiro who told them about that time you... you intimidated him into giving me your number!”

Well, when you put it like that, it certainly sounded crazy. What a great first impression Keith.

“Okay. So you don’t talk about me with them?”

“Nope, not at all, _nada.”_

“...Sure… anyways, I think you should invest in some after sun, you’ve got some-”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

 

…

 

 _“_ _We're in a quarry, the rock isn't going to be that secure, and conveniently for us, they're all in the same place."_

_Akira saw what Lance meant, the swarm of Galran soldiers was collected over a jutting rock face, heavy Balmeran stone. There was no way that they could get rid of them all at once, unless..._

_"Do it, Akira."_

  
_Miss the shot and he'd attract the attention of the entire Galran squadron. They wouldn't be able to take them on, not with just the two of them, and with Lance in this condition. The weapon was heavy in his hands and he curled his fingers tighter around the barrel in order to get a better grip._

 _Well, here goes nothing._ _  
_

_Twenty-two consecutive shots at the rock face and the Galran soldiers were aware that their target was not aiming for them, they attempted to rush forward and the sheer mass of the oncoming enemy was enough to make Akira regret all of the life choices that her lead to this moment and hold Lance a little tighter in his arms._

  
_His heart started beating again when he heard the first crack.  A thousand times louder than the discharge of an old gunpowder weapon, the first fissure appeared in the rock and sparked utter pandemonium. Jagged shards of rock fell from above and hit running Galrans in entire groups.  But still, on the fringes of the crowd, the Galrans that had managed to dodge the falling stone and had reached a place of safety were checking their weapons and looking for vengeance. Akira knew that if he was going to get them out, he would have to make it quick._  
  
_Lance wasn't that heavy, considering his lanky frame had a few extra centimetres on Akira, but it was still a struggle to get to the cave tunnel and into relative safety. Akira walked for about twenty minutes into the tunnel system in silence before he reflected on the fact that he didn't actually know where he was going. Thankfully, that was the moment Gunderson managed to get through to them._  
  
_"Lance, Akira, wherever you are please pick up as soon as you hear this."_  
  
_"Gunderson?"_

  
_"Oh thank god, we were worried, are you okay? Is Lance with you?"_

_"Lance is with me, but... he's injured. Bad."_

_  
"I'm trying to get your location, wait there I'll direct you to where we are. We've got both of your lions, hang on."_

_  
"Okay."_

_  
Gunderson finished speaking allowing Akira to clearly hear the noise of footsteps from ahead of them in the tunnel._

_  
“Shit, someone's coming, I'll call you back.”_

_  
“Akira-“_

  
_He switched off the comm and hurriedly lifted Lance behind a nook in the wall. Lance's eyes were rolling shut as he slowly slid into unconsciousness. Akira shot one brief look at Lance before he crouched in the shadows, one hand on his Bayard ready to draw._  
  
_The origins of the footsteps were far enough away that Akira was beginning to feel the lactic acid building in his tensed muscles. Past the curve of the tunnel, Akira could see a group of four Galran soldiers, weapons in hand, marching forward. Lance was looking worse each passing minute, but he would be safe and out of view in the tiny nook where he was slumped. The other paladins would be able to track him if something went wrong._

_As they rounded the corner, Akira was able to take one soldier out and to startle another two off their balance as they marched through the tunnel. But it wasn’t enough. He missed a crucial shot and it allowed a soldier to dash forward. He felt a white-hot pain in his wrist as he moved just a little too slowly out of the way of the Galran’s heavy blow. He dropped his Bayard and could do nothing but attempt to duck as a metal arm slammed into his windpipe and threw him into the wall a few feet away._

_His vision was swimming and distantly, he could hear a soft choking sound escaping his lips. The other two conscious soldiers were beginning to stand and try and reclaim their weapons. Slowly, very slowly, Akira reached behind him and felt an object on his belt. With as much force as he could muster, he stabbed the blade upwards into the helmet of the soldier, hoping to god that it was a droid. Luckily, he felt wiring snap and the soldier crumpled instantaneously. The droid had been holding him a few feet above the ground and as he landed, he felt a sharp pain shoot through his injured leg and he almost lost his balance. Luckily, he still had a hold of the droid that had choked him, and he lifted it as a quasi-shield to protect from the inevitable blows by the remaining two Galrans. Akira felt for the red Bayard again, but his breath caught when he glanced upwards to see that the first Galran had a hold of both of them, aimed straight at his head, whilst the other had its newly reclaimed sword pointing in the same direction. With barely a glance backwards to the nook in which Lance lay, Akira rushed the Galran with the Bayards, the droid body acting as a thin barrier to the incoming strikes. The Galran was knocked off its feet without an attempt to even use either of the weapons in its hand, and Akira took the only weapon he had left in his arsenal and stabbed it straight through the helmet. It cut through like a butter knife, emitting that eerie purple glow that Akira had never quite gotten used to. When he saw that the last soldier was nowhere to be seen, his heart fell straight into his gut. Acting on his suspicions, he ran back into the semi-darkness of the tunnel until he found the nook, he had been entirely correct; the Galran had gone for Lance._

_This one must have been the only living soldier in the group because it appeared to be speaking into a comm in its helmet._

_“...droids have taken care of the other one and we have acquired the paladin weapons. Infra-red sensors show that the remaining ones are in a location too far for our sensors to pick up; will continue by air…”_

_It was hard to see in the dark, but it looked like the Galran had thrown Lance over one of his shoulders and he wasn’t moving. Hoping that the shadow covered him well enough, he gripped the blade tightly and darted as silently as he could behind him. His feet didn’t move quietly enough to fool the sensitive Galran ears under the helmet, but it didn’t matter. With a slash of the blade, he was down, and Akira scrambled to grab Lance before he hit the floor._

_In his arms, Lance’s eyes were open, but he wasn’t looking at Akira, instead, his gaze was fixated on the glowing purple light in his right hand._

_“What… what is that knife?”_

_Akira let his gaze roam over Lance briefly to check for any new injuries; when he certified there were none, his eyes turned back to further up the tunnel._

_“We haven’t got time for that now, Lance. Just focus on resting up and staying alive.”_

_“Okay.”_

 

  
....  
  
  
  
  
“Hey Keith…?”

It was later in the afternoon, Keith had managed to avoid nearly all of the people he knew from college so he counted that as a win. The only time he had to make a real escape is when Daniel from Further Mathematics had hit him on the back and tried to talk to ask him if he knew a ‘ blonde Gina’, who was apparently here somewhere, and had allegedly taken a liking to him.

“Hmm?”

“I was wondering if you were doing anything this evening? This barbecue’s for the oldies like Coran and Shiro, but we’re having a party with all the others if you wanted to stay ‘til then?”

“What, like a house party?”

“Lance thumped him on the back with a grin.

“Exactly like that, you up for it? Let loose, let your hair down- although it’s not like you need any help with that…”

“For the last time Lance, leave my hair alone, that joke was old the first time you used it.”

Someone across the lawn was having an argument, and Keith could faintly hear the sound of a loud ‘thwack’, and then a bunch of the people that might have been in his Astronomy class cheer.

Lance lifted his hands in surrender.

“Alright alright, just, will you come?”

Keith sighed, if he was going to make new friends, this would be the perfect place to do it wouldn’t it? This is what people his age did right?

“Yeah sure, I’ve got nothing better to do.”

Lance’s grin widened.

“Perfect! The old folk go home around five so we usually crack open the kegs at six, so just hang on and put your feet up ‘til then, Pidge says you’re a science major too so I’m sure you’ll find something in common with most people here, I think Hunk invited pretty much their entire engineering class.”

Keith was very aware of the number of people in the garden, it was only half four and he wasn’t sure he would make it until then. Something must have shown on his face because Lance’s expression softened.

“Or just chill in the front room, I always put a couple of video games and DVDs in the lounge in the upstairs apartment so if people need a break from the socialising for a little while then they can.”

“Thanks, Lance.” And he meant it.

 

…..

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I've had this chapter partially written since, what? February? But I haven't been in the best place so I apologise wholeheartedly for the long wait. This is a huge whopper of a chapter due to the huge amount of 'Voltron: the YA novel' in it so I'm just hoping that's not too annoying,( it is necessary, I promise). The next one can be considered a semi-part 2... I guess? Which should be along soon.
> 
> I hope you enjoy my misadventures of Keith and Lance, and if you wanna say hi at any point you can visit my new Tumblr : https://anansigalpals.tumblr.com/ (if ya want.)
> 
> Also! If anyone has a clue if you're supposed to write Bayard or bayard then please help me out :) <3


	9. Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance collides with Keith again, however, he's considerably drunker this time. Also there's eggs. Mmm eggs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: underage drinking for Pidge (in the US) everyone else is at least 21.
> 
> I am honoured to show you the [absolutely amaaazing artwork](http://https://anansigalpals.tumblr.com/post/165515715175/littlemermaidart-heres-some-cute-art-of-the) that [littlemermaidart.tumblr.com](https://littlemermaidart.tumblr.com/) did for this chapter! It's so beautiful I can't believe it was made for my work! But probably go look at it later bc spoilers ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 

Chapter 9

  
_Epiphany e·piph·a·ny [əˈpifənē]_

_noun: a moment of sudden and great revelation or realization._

 

Keith didn't get the chance to make the most of the living room as the evening progressed. He ended up being dragged into several conversations with people he vaguely knew and even more disturbingly, people he was sure he didn't. After struggling through a particularly horrible conversation with a group of guys that had introduced themselves as Lance’s old dorm mates, Keith found his focus drift off. Someone must have asked for his input on something; likely related to the blonde girl Pidge was talking to that they were currently ogling. It took him a few jarring seconds for him to notice them all looking expectantly at him.

“Um…?”

An arm around his shoulder saved him from the metaphorical bell, he glanced beside him in surprise to see Lance smiling back at him.

“Hey guys! Glad to see you've met Keith, how are you all?”

Lance didn't remove his arm the entire time he fist-bumped the others in the circle, and Keith already felt a little warm. His gaze roamed nonchalantly across the garden until it settled on the group of people who had deemed it necessary to start moving the party inside. The sky had darkened to a deep, clear blue, and the air felt a little less dense. Hunk had hold of a large speaker and was followed by a few others Keith didn't recognise who were each carrying a crate of beer.

A few moments later, music thudded through the garden and Keith could feel the vibrations tingle through his feet. At some point, someone had pressed an obligatory college-red plastic cup in his hands with some sort of alcohol in it. The smell suggested it was probably beer but Keith didn't want to end the evening passed out face-first in the yard so instead, he looked for a place to get rid of it.

He excused himself from the conversation and padded into the building. He climbed the stairs, trying to step over the currently engaged and likely slightly tipsy couple as carefully as he could. The evening was getting cooler now, so most people had relocated to the upstairs apartment of the bookshop. The music was a lot louder here, and most people were trying to compensate for the repetitive thudding beat by executing dance moves that could only ever look cool to a drunk person, but thankfully it hadn't gotten to the stage where people had started to remove clothing. Yet.

Keith continued down the corridor, trying to avoid several people leaning in door frames and chatting, until he reached the small kitchen that had been converted into a ‘bar’, with Shiro behind the counter; a cocktail shaker in his hand. Shiro looked up when he shuffled in, and finished pouring out a bright blue drink into a glass, before handing it to a girl who was wobbling slightly on her stilettos.

“What can I get you, buddy?”

Keith scratched his face as he decided. “If I’m going to last, you might as well make me a water.”

Shiro’s eyebrows raised a fraction, but turned to pull a few bottles of clear spirits out of a cupboard.

“So Keith likes his drinks strong? I’ll have to remember not to challenge you to a drinking contest.”

“No, I literally just meant water, thanks.”

“Oh okay, sure, I didn’t know if that was like a euphemism for like neat vodka or something.”

“Don’t worry about it, man.”

He smiled at Shiro who passed him some water in a glass and thanked him, before turning to see if he could find a way out of the kitchen, densely packed with people angling for another drink. He had just spotted a clear path out of the room when a hand grabbed his wrist.

“Keith! My buddy! My best pal, let me buy you a drink.”

“Hey Lance, they’re free I think?”

“Ah yes, well at least let me give you my place in the queue.”

“I was here before-”

“Ah I see you already have one, never mind! I haven't seen you in there yet, dance with me would you?”

Lance’s tanned face was flushed a sweaty pink, from either dancing or whatever he was drinking, and various tufts of his hair stuck up in a way that gave the overall impression that he'd been mildly electrocuted.

“Uh I don't dance…”

“That's a load of bullshit, everyone dances! You just gotta do the Macarena or something, come on!”

It wasn't like Keith had any choice in the matter, as he was forcibly dragged into the living room where the party was in full swing. Here was even worse than the kitchen, and the music was so loud he could swear he felt his teeth rattle. Bodies were pressed up against each other and hands were pumping in the air in time to the music. Keith had never felt so uncomfortable, but Lance’s grip was tight as he led him to the centre of the room.

He tried to shout over the music but it didn't work and it made his throat hurt, so he poked Lance on the shoulder with his free hand.

Whatever he'd wanted to say disappeared off the tip of his tongue when Lance turned to look at him. Whatever strong feeling this was, it was unfamiliar to him. If he was pressed, he would describe it as being close to acute affection, but that wasn't quite right. There was something more to it than that, something like hope.

He had let go of Keith's wrist and was already starting to move to the beat, his body keeping perfect time, his hips tracing smooth lines in the air and his _smile_. Holy shit that smile would stay with him for days. In fact, it was contagious. As the song switched to an upbeat melody Lance started to sing along, Keith couldn't hear his voice over the music, but the combination of the music, the heat and the adrenaline pumping through his veins broke down all of Keith’s barriers.

He started to copy some of Lance’s movements, slowly at first, in between the generic, awkward sidesteps that he would call his signature dance moves. Lance's focus didn't leave him once, and during a particularly boppy part, someone's arm was waving dangerously close to his face so Lance grabbed hold of Keith's hips with a hand and spun him around into safety. He seemed to have an infinite amount of stamina, and by the tenth song, when Keith was starting to puff, Lance didn't even seem to be close to stopping. He had a bottle of unidentifiable liquid in his right hand and took sips from it every few minutes, and whatever it was seemed to make him look a little looser and a little louder than before.

Eventually, Keith couldn’t cope any longer. His breaths were short and his head felt like it was about to explode.

“LANCE.”

“HUH?”

He pointed back towards the door and mimed grabbing a drink, Lance nodded and was about to follow him when the song changed. His eyes lit up, and Keith knew that he wanted to stay for this song. He turned and attempted to push through the crowd without getting stepped on or accidentally groped too badly, and managed to make it through to the other side.

He didn’t see Lance for another couple of hours, and by the time he found him again, Lance was looking pretty worse for wear. The party had started to lull by this point and many, _many_ people were off their faces. Lance was no exception as he walked up to where Keith was chatting with Pidge, Shiro, Allura and some guy named Michael who apparently went to their college.

Lance didn’t _quite_ make it to them, and ended up tripping over the carpet and using the arm of the chair to steady himself.

"Heyyy...what's up kee-chieeeeef." He giggled a little.  
  
In his peripherals, Keith was vaguely aware that Pidge was snickering and mouthing 'chief,' at the others, but for once he didn't scowl. A drunk Lance was not something easy to handle, he was annoying, giggly and is that-is that _drool_ ? Disgusting. Even so, there was something unfamiliar fluttering against his rib cage when Lance's steadily drooping eyes met his.

Keith rolled his eyes at Pidge who was still cackling behind their hand.

“Someone needs to sort _that_ out.”

  
"Don't worry, I'll deal with it."

  
"Whady'a sayyy?"  
  
"I just said I'll take you back home." He offered a hand to Lance who was teetering dangerously.

  
Pidge smirked. "Yeah I bet you will-oof! Don't hit me Shiro!"

  
Somehow, Lance was still able to stand and looped a hand around Keith's waist to steady himself ( _almost_ without brushing anything inappropriate in the process, Keith decided to let it go, the man was wasted.)

“This guy isn't going to be able to cope with a motorbike, is there any room here?”

“Yeah, he’s got a room up the second flight of stairs. It's not a big building, you should find it.”

Well that suggested Lance frequently ended a party like this, not that Keith was particularly surprised. He part carried, half dragged Lance to the door and pointedly ignored any winking that was coming from Pidge.

“Are you usually like this?”

“Like what, I'm a normal college student, I'm _meant_ to drink.”

  
"Speaking of which, what exactly was in that glass of yours? Was it brake fuel? Because unless you're a lightweight I don't understand how you could manage to get this wrecked after only five cans and a lot of water." Lance waved his free hand in the caricature of a bow.  
  
"That was not water, nope." He had obviously noticed the slurring of his words because he began a conscious effort to enunciate, popping the 'p' in the process.  
  
Keith groaned inwardly as Lance stepped on his foot accidentally. "Alright, well let's get you up these stairs without one of us falling down them. That would be a great start."  
  
Keith probably would have had more of an idea where he was going if he wasn't preoccupied with Lance's decision to rest his head on Keith's shoulder. The apartment was small, but once he'd managed to drag Lance's stubborn deadweight up the stairs, he was faced with a corridor of rooms, most likely containing sleeping guests from the rumbling noises that were emanating from behind them.  
  
Gently he shook a half-asleep Lance, who had proceeded to press his entire face into Keith's neck, much to his chagrin.  
  
"Wakey wakey sunshine, which room's yours? "  
  
Lance mumbled something into his neck that he couldn't quite hear.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said the second one." Keith opened the door and unwrapped his arms to allow Lance to stumble to his bed. Lance didn't move for a moment and instead studied him, a faint crease between his eyebrows and a twist to his lips. Keith raised a dark brow and folded his arms across his chest. “What, I assume you can get dressed by yourself?”

  
"Keith..." The expression on Lance's face could be mistaken for torn. "Stay."

Keith stilled. "Why?"  
  
"Just… for a little while, okay?"  
  
"Oh, okay."

Keith paused for a moment, and then shuffled over to where Lance was sitting cross-legged on the bed. Lance patted the duvet. “Come sit.”

Keith did. The window was directly next to the bed and the light streaming in made him look soft and vulnerable, he was shivering a little. Keith could tell by the look in his eyes that he was fairly out of it. They were glazed over until they fixed on him with an almost uncomfortable intensity. He let out a breath and turned to watch the last remaining party-goers in the garden. It looked like at least one person had thrown up.

“So…?”

“Hunk says you’ve known Pidge for a while, that’s... cool.”

“Yeah, Matt and Pidge were the only people I knew that lived here when I moved so I guess I kinda clung onto them.”

Lance nodded and then paused for a moment before speaking. His head was drooping slightly and he let his cheek rest on his hand.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you move? What about your family and everything? I haven’t heard you talk about them.”

Not expecting the question, Keith’s brain momentarily went blank, then he laughed. It was a little too bitter to be a nice laugh but he hoped Lance wouldn’t notice.

“Yeah, I haven’t spoken to them for a while.”

Or thought of them, not really, in the three months he’d been here they hadn’t crossed his mind in more than a passing thought. It was a shock, if he was honest, to realise that. Before he left, he had been so worried that he wouldn’t be able to let them go. Apparently not the case. Apart from…

There was that nagging feeling again, that sort of pull in his brain that signified that something wasn’t quite right. It had been like a blurry memory of a nightmare that wormed its way into the peripherals of his life for a few weeks now, he’d assumed that’s what it was, just the remnants of some bad dream that he’d had. But right now in the dark with Lance’s voice sending rolling waves of familiarity over him he was _remembering_.

…

 

_“Jamie says hi.”_

 

_………………_

 

_“California? Really Keith? Is there a particular reason for moving to the complete other side of the country or-”_

_“That’s it, that’s the reason.”_

_“Keith…”_

_“No I know what you’re going to say, Andrew, and I’m sorry. I really am, but I can’t live here anymore.”_

_“I’m- I’m truly sorry you feel that way. I’m sorry I let it happen.”_

_“It wasn’t your fault.”_

_“...No, but it was my responsibility. He was my responsibility.”_

 

_………………………………………_

 

There was a hand gripping his arm and shaking it gently. He blinked. There was Lance’s face; close now, riddled with concern.

“You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Keith twisted his face into something he hoped would pass for a smile. “Yeah thanks, I’m okay. You seem like you’re sobering up?”

Lance still didn’t look convinced, and he hadn’t let go of his arm.

“I’m okay, just a little...tired, but you’re not. Do you… do you want to talk about it?” His voice was a little slurred and he yawned so wide that he looked like he was about to drop any minute.

But his blue eyes were earnest, like he would cling onto every word that Keith spoke, no matter the importance of them, and when Keith looked into them, he couldn’t help but want to let his entire life story unravel from his lips. This man was absolutely going to be the death of him.

“I met Pidge and their brother Matt a while back, they were like family to me.”

“Oh I know Matt! He’s at some sort of science…. thing in Europe, Swiss’land or something, right?“

“Yeah that’s it.”

“He used to be bros with Shiro.”

“Really? Ah no, I can imagine it actually. Yeah, so you know how super smart they both are, well they both got into MIT early and moved over here. I...”

He stuttered to a halt. Not sure where to go next. Not sure if a drunken Lance would appreciate being rambled to by bleeding-heart Keith Kogane of all people. Lance moved to bump his shoulder with his own.

“Spill man, I don’t mind.”

Maybe it was the warmth of Lance pressed up against his side. Maybe it was the fact that the other man was pretty drunk and probably wouldn’t remember this in the morning. Or maybe it was just the fact that it was _Lance_. Somewhere in between, he’d managed to get so caught up in his whirlwind that he was pretty sure he’d tell Lance anything. And maybe, for once, it wouldn’t be a bad thing.

“So I don’t want to speak for Pidge, but have they told you anything about their family?”

“Yeah, Matt and Pidge’s parents went missing when they were kids, right? And they were in foster care or something....” Lance quietened and Keith felt his eyes search his face. “Is that where you met them?”

Keith bit his lip as he looked down at his hands, but forced himself to continue. “Mm, tragic orphan Keith. I got adopted by this amazing couple when I was fifteen. They had a son as well, a little older than me but when he...left, I decided it would be good to move too.”

That was a start, and Lance obviously appreciated his attempt by the soft smile that warmed his lips. “Hey now, that wasn't so difficult, thank you for telling me.”

Keith could hear the first signs of rain trickling down the drainpipes from outside and he watched the first drops slide down the window.

“I’ll tell you all of it one day, I promise.” And it was true, he felt like he'd just become weightless, floating on some sort of high that came with getting at least a part of his many issues off his chest. It was a wonderfully odd feeling. What he wouldn't give for it to last forever.

“When you're ready. I'm… I’m really glad that you moved to California, Keith. Do you know that?”

“Thanks Lance. Me too.”

“And I'm really glad that you picked up my book, it's like… I know what it's like,” He pointed a lazy finger at Keith.

“It's like _fate_.”

Keith’s face twitched into a smile. “Fate isn't real, you loser.”

“I didn't say it _was_ fate, I said it was _like_ fate.”

“Whatever you say.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Side by side on the bedspread, close enough that their knees were pressing. Lance's yawn was contagious and it took a lot out of him as he gently rested his head on Keith's shoulder.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure Lance.”

The sound of his voice was muffled by Keith's shoulder.” I think that I’m a little bit drunk right now.”

Keith laughed quietly. “Yeah? And why do you think that?”

“I was trying to find Hunk earlier and I tried to go through the door to the outside and then it wasn't outside at all it was a closet. ‘S funny because-.” Lance dissolved into giggles as Keith muttered a deniably fond “Idiot.” whilst rolling his eyes at the sky.

But he dropped his head so that it rested on Lance's; nose brushing soft hair. He knew he probably shouldn't, and he was going to regret this in the morning, but honestly? He was sleep deprived, it was dark, and this was the most comfortable he had felt in recent memory. Lance was warm and happily drunk and so real that Keith had no idea what to do with himself.

So when Lance’s hand found his own, splayed on the bedspread, and threaded their fingers together, Keith found that he didn't really mind. The quiet strumming of a guitar weaved amongst the rippling notes of a piano and drifted up from downstairs. Keith's eyes were definitely drooping.

“Mm. Tired. W’should probably go to bed.”

Keith unwillingly lifted his head to allow Lance to raise his own and look at him. His cheeks were pink from the alcohol and he raised the hand that wasn't entwined with Keith's in a wobbly mock salute; the twinkle in his eyes caused a soft warmth to spread through Keith to the tips of his fingers.

“Night Chief."

Keith attempted to disentangle himself from the other man but Lance’s hand held tight.

"Night dumbass."  
  
As Lance's hand moved from the salute, it paused a few centimetres from Keith's face and Keith was caught. The sudden, painful awareness of their proximity somehow materialised in a strange fluttering sensation in his stomach and a feeling of vertigo so strong, he didn't trust himself to move without falling. They were close enough that their breaths mixed, and Keith was frozen in place, breathing in the unmistakable taste of strawberry vodka and peppermint. Lance's eyes were unreadable, but they had never seemed so bright.

And then, one of them fell.

  
A clumsy brush of noses followed by a press of warm, gentle lips against his own. A hand trailed up his shirt and found the back of his neck and Keith couldn't help himself as he subconsciously leant closer, even if he was too stunned to move. It was short, almost… sweet.

Lance pulled back enough for him to breathe a soft sigh against Keith's cheek. Now the impossible second had passed, Keith felt like he'd blinked and missed a century.  
  
Keith caught one brief glimpse of a smile on Lance's lips before he retracted his hand and fell back onto the bed, his eyes sliding shut as soon as his head hit the pillow. His mind just completely full of white static, Keith sat stock-still on the edge of the bed. His fingers were still knotted between Lance’s clammy ones on the bedspread and he stared at them in shock.

_What?!_

Still processing, he watched Lance’s softly snoring form for a couple of seconds, before reaching across to undo Lance’s shoes, shucking them off, and placing them neatly at the end of the bed. He searched around the small room in vain for an extra blanket so ended up attempting to vaguely tuck Lance under the bedspread without waking him up. He needn't have bothered. Lance was entirely dead to the world, his sleeping face looking too young and open for someone who could win Cards Against Humanity _that_ well.

The annoying twisting feeling in Keith's chest refused to go away, even when he stumbled into the living room to find Allura, Shiro, Hunk and the friend that had been with Lance with in the coffee shop, chatting quietly. Several people were passed out in sleeping bags on the floor in the corner of the room, but otherwise, it didn't look too devastated. As if answering his unspoken question, Pidge walked in from the kitchen with a bin bag and a crate in their arms. He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece; 4 am, most people would have probably gone home by this point.

Pidge noticed him in the doorway and raised an eyebrow.

“Lance didn't throw up on you, did he?”

Shiro shot an annoyed glance at them. “Pidge keep your voice down, people are sleeping!” he whispered.

In response, Pidge waved a hand to the seemingly comatose partygoers. “They're fine, knowing Greg, he wouldn't wake up even if we had an entire orchestra in here. In fact, maybe we should try it...”

The tall, kind-looking woman from the coffee shop who had been introduced to him earlier as Hunk’s friend Shay nodded in agreement and motioned for Keith to sit down on the sofa next to her. Pidge tried again as he sat.

“Really, how bad was the vomit this time? You look bad.”

“There was no vomit, thankfully. I don't know if I could cope.”

Pidge snorted and put down the bag and crate in favour of grabbing a kitchen chair and sitting on it. “We've all had to do it at some point, it's your turn next.” Their expression changed to sly, and they grinned at him. “Well you spent a rather long time in there, if he wasn't throwing up, what was it you were doing? I know for a fact that he's a very clingy drunk.”

Keith gulped, guessing correctly that his face was very close away from burning.

“Lance is- he was fine. We just had a conversation, that's all.”

Shay chimed in. “You're looking very pale, Keith, are you sure you're okay?”

“I'm just tired, is all.”

Pidge snorted derisively from their chair. “He's drunk, that's what it is.”

Shiro’s eyes furrowed from where he sat next to Allura but he didn't say anything about it, clearing his throat instead.

“Well, I think it's time for me to go, if you have any trouble or anything don't hesitate to-”

But Pidge had already stood up along with him and was pushing him out the door.

“Yes we know, we know, father. You and Allura are always on call if we need you or anything gets out of hand, just both of you go home.”

Allura looked startled. “I'm not going with Shiro-”

“We all know you are, so there is literally no point in denying it, which is all the reason why you don't want to waste your time here.”

Allura blushed furiously but she said nothing as she picked up her bag and walked for the doorway. Shiro meanwhile had stopped and was appraising Pidge seriously.

“Pidge, do you think of me as a father figure-?”

“Shiro, GO! You haven't got time for this! Don't leave your girl waiting!”

Pidge smirked as Shiro glanced at Allura before he waved a quick goodbye to the room and then left. After a minute Hunk laughed.

“We all know for sure that the only thing they're gonna do is have a glass of wine, listen to the radio and maybe spoon a little bit.”

“Ahh, the torrid affairs of the adults in this family, so outrageous. I would apologise for being so forceful in shoving them out, but I can't cope with fussing and cleaning up right now.” They stretched like a cat.

“Right, so I've had far too much to drink and I think I'm about to pass out in the spare room, Keith, do you have a place to sleep?”

“Uh, I was just thinking of walking home?”

“Are you joking? It’s dark and you're in no state.”

“Actually, I-”

They hushed him with a finger to their lips. “Shh, shh, it's fine, you can take the sofa, I'm sure Lance wouldn't mind,”

“Why would Lance-?”

“Alright I'm out kiddos, goodnight!”

They walked out of the living room and Hunk and Shay followed them out, after saying goodnight to Keith. Keith got up to turn the light off, then settled himself on the sofa. It was more comfortable than he was expecting, and he quickly slipped into a deep and dreamless sleep.

 

…………………..  
  
Keith woke up with a crick in his neck and a numb arm to Lance peering over him.

“You drool in your sleep.”

As Lance should have been fully aware, Keith could not control his reflex actions when faced with someone intruding dangerously into his personal space.

“Ow!”

Hopefully, the bruise that was going to form on Lance's nose would serve as a potent reminder, at least until he learned his lesson.

“Sorry.” said Keith, not meaning a syllable.

“Well that's what I get when I try to wake the monster up I guess, do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Haven't a clue.”

Keith yawned and stretched his arms as he sat up on the sofa.

“1:52 pm.”

_“Are you joking?!”_

“Don’t blame me, everyone else has gone home. I was going to leave you as you were but I need the sofa for gaming and you’re not the comfiest to sit on. Too bony I reckon.”

Keith attempted to scramble off the sofa in a rush but his foot caught on the edge of a blanket someone had placed over him and he tipped into the floor with a painful thud.

Lance sniggered as Keith tried to get up once more.

“Karma’s a bitch, huh?”

“Shut up, do you know where my shoes are?”

Lance let out a frustrated huff and reached for Keith's arm.

“Listen, _idiota_ , you've probably missed all your morning lectures and you're in no state to go to your afternoon ones if you have any?”

“I don't have any.”

“That's good then, I'm sure we can get you some notes from somebody else in your class, but I'm not letting you leave until you've had breakfast, you look like you're gonna pass out again you're so pale.”

Keith made a small grunt of assent when he realised there was no way that he was going to be able to convincingly counter Lance’s argument, and the smell of hot coffee that was already beginning to waft through the room from the kitchen dissolved any objections he might have had. He ended up following Lance into the kitchen.

So they were in the apartment above the bookshop, and only Lance was here? Perhaps the owner had to go out. Thinking back on it, Keith was surprised he hadn't seen the manager at the party the night before, the rest of the staff were there after all. Perhaps they were someone he hadn't talked to, but he hadn't remembered seeing anyone but college students and other friends of the staff members.

Lance was busying himself around the kitchen with a pan in hands when he turned to see Keith leaning in the doorway, he pointed it at him.

“You like eggs?”

“Sure.”

Lance nodded and rustled around in some cupboards. Once he found whatever he was looking for, he began to chop some onions and with his free hand, pointed at the two mugs of coffee on the kitchen surface.

“Wasn't sure how you took it but there's milk and cream in the fridge and sugar is on the table.”

“Thanks.”

Keith took one of the mugs and sat at the kitchen table, content to watch Lance move around the kitchen. He seemed to have gotten over the previous night pretty easily, and was obviously in high spirits due to the quiet song he was humming and the slight bounce in his step as he moved around.

That's right, last night. Everything came flooding back to him and he was glad he'd placed the mug on the table otherwise he was sure he would have spilt it.

Lance had _kissed_ him.

Now he was only able to stare at Lance as he moved across the room to where his phone lay on the counter to turn some music on.

Keith was suddenly aware that Lance obviously found the silence uncomfortable and racked his brains quickly for something to say, still rattled. “So, uh, did you enjoy the party?”

Lance stopped what he was doing and turned to smirk at him. “I did, seems like someone else did too.”

Keith could physically feel all the blood drain from his body. Lance saw his expression and laughed loudly.

“Oh don't look like that, you weren't the only person who went home looking a little worse for wear this morning, man… Some of the stains I had to clear up are downright _nasty_.”

Keith slowly remembered how to breathe, but it didn't stop his heart from hammering at a hundred miles per hour. Lance had _kissed_ him. What did that mean? Was this something Lance did to every person who helped him? Was it a sign of gratitude in California? He wouldn't be surprised, some of the people were _weird_ , or rather, he had no idea what normal college students were like so what seemed odd to Keith could be the normal for people here. Right? Lance wasn't acting any different from how he normally was at least, there was no reason to believe that it had meant anything… was there? It was just a kiss.

He was almost startled out of his seat when Lance waved a hand in front of his face.

“Hello, earth to Keith. You've got your over thinking face on which means you need to drink some more of that.” He pointed to Keith's coffee.

“Speaking of which, how do you take it? For future reference.”

“Hmm? Oh, I just have it black, no milk or sugar.”

Lance snorted.

“Ha, should have guessed you were an espresso guy, small and bitter, just like you.”

Keith moved to hit him but Lance moved out of the way laughing, tipping some spices into the pan with the eggs.

“Seriously Keith, it's not trouble. You don't have to feel guilty about not helping out, I'm the only one who's usually in the state to clear up after a party so I'm used to it.”

But that's not- that's not what was the problem was. Keith decided to push on whilst the adrenaline was still coursing through his veins

“So…did you… did you have any -”

He grimaced.

“- _gossip_? From last night?”

Lance was still by the stove for a moment, before erupting into peals of laughter. He had to grip the counter he was laughing so hard.

“What?”

He turned back to Keith, wiping tears from his eyes.

“That’s your way of starting a conversation? Oh Mullet, what would the world do without you? To answer your question, I have honestly no idea about a lot of things that happened last night, to be honest, it all started going fuzzy around eight. If you want to know who did what and who then you're going to have to ask Pidge, although I didn't think you were the type to care…”

Keith was rapidly becoming red-faced.

“I don't. Shut up. It's just… you really don't remember anything?”

Lance grinned at him.

“Nope!”

Well. That was a thing.

Lance finished up the eggs with a toss, and slid them onto plates. He set them down with a flourish, and rummaged in the drawers for some clean knives and forks, passing a pair to Keith as he sat down.

“Well come on then, why you want to know the ‘gossip’, as you so smoothly put it, is there something you want to tell me?”

Keith stared at him with his fork halfway to his mouth.

“Did you want to know if a certain…someone was still available after the events of the previous night? Or perhaps, if they confessed their love for you to the incredibly helpful, all-knowing, friendly Lance McClain?”

Keith put down his fork and moved to stand up, his cheeks an angry red, but Lance grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“No but stop, this is _interesting_ ,”

From the gleam in his eyes, he certainly hadn't missed anything in regards to the current state of Keith's expression.

“Why are you _blushing_ what the hell!? What does that even… Wait no...Has Keith... _dios los ayude_ ...got a _crush_ on someone?!”

Keith looked down at the tanned hand clutching his wrist. He could smell the mouth-wateringly delicious aroma of the coffee that tangled with the spicy heat of the best scrambled eggs he had ever tasted. He glanced up into the blue eyes of a man who had just cooked those eggs for him and in the soft afternoon light of the kitchen for a moment he was reminded of the look in the same man's eyes when he had kissed him. The man who'd _kissed_ him.

“Fuck.”

Lance's eyes seemed to dim, just for a flash, but that was easily categorised as just his imagination due to the fact they immediately regained their brightness a split-second later.

“So...Who is it? Will you tell me?”

“No.”

“Awh come on Keith! Ah, you know what? I can work it out, let me guess, it'll be more fun that way.”

“I don't have a crush.”

Maybe yesterday that would've been true… No. Keith had been lying to himself, this- feeling that had wormed itself deep into his chest had been there for a long time, if that's what it was, a crush. It wasn't as if Keith experienced the affliction often, so it could theoretically be any number of things, respect, admiration, just plain old friendship.

He almost jumped out his skin when he felt a warm hand cover his.

“Hey hey, you've got your over thinking face on again, it makes you look like you're trying to twist your eyebrows into a pretzel; not a good look. Come on, sit down. Eat your eggs, College students don't turn away free food.”

His voice was soft in that rare way that sent Keith’s heart into a tremolo, and that pure sliver of _fondness_ pushed Keith’s body for him as he slid back into his seat.

“There's nothing to be worried about, it happens to practically everybody at some point and hey, whoever you like they've got to be awesome to be able to get through that angry skull of yours.”

“Watch it.”

Keith couldn't keep his glare up for long, not when his eyes were twinkling like that. So he turned his gaze to his hands which were fisted in his lap.

“Yeah… they're, they’re pretty cool, I guess.”

Lance smiled at him warmly. “I'm really glad you told me.”

“I _didn't_ tell you…”  Keith growled.

Lance waved his hand dismissively as he stood up to make another serving of eggs.

“You want some more?”

“Mm. These eggs are really good.”

“Hmm? Ah, glad you think so, you can’t be around Hunk and Mama for long periods of time without learning a useful tip or two.”

He winked and for the hundredth time that morning Keith felt his cheeks warm.

“So, something fun happen at the party that you're not telling me?”

“Why do you have to know?”

“I'm curious, and I'm your friend, _and_ I know pretty much everyone who came last night so I should be able to help you out.

“Help me out? What do you mean?”

“I mean what I mean, if my man’s got the hots for someone then I’ve got to make sure they’re good enough, you know?”

Keith stared blankly at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Lance sighed exasperatedly as he walked past. “I _mean_ that I’m going to help you achieve relationship status with whoever it is, that’s what friendships are for right? And if worst comes to the worst, I can always beat them up for you.”

Keith stared at him, deadpan. “Beat them up? You?”

Lance clutched his chest in mock offence. “I’ll have you know, I’d be the best ninja assassin the world has ever seen, look at these guns.” He flexed his non-existent biceps.

“Now hurry up and eat your eggs, I need to beat you at Mario Kart.”

Ah Lance, never change.

 

…………………………………………

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight, I hope you like this one guys! It is literally more than four times the length of Chapter 1 which suggests that by Chapter 15 we'll be on 50k a chapter amirite? 
> 
> Interesting Notes with the Author: In the Voltron Wiki, it says that the original Keith: 'Akira' was nicknamed 'Chief' which is possibly where his romanized name comes from, so now you know! ;)


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